Circle Reforged: The Ties that Bind
by Noxid Anamchara
Summary: Sandry has never been able to keep her neb out of anyone's business. Especially her families'. So when the opportunity of a lifetime arises, she takes it. One that may be what her siblings need. While Briar finally comes face to face with his Gyongxe demons, Tris faces some of her own. Lightsbridge has changed her - but for better or worse? Can the Circle survive another obstacle?
1. Chapter 1: Part 1

**EM**: A Circle story from my heart. Since I am fed up with waiting for Pierce to finish Briar and Tris' books, I am taking some things into my own hands. Hopefully you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: Everything Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce, a most beautiful story-teller.

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><p><strong>The Circle Reforged: The Ties that Bind<strong>

Chapter 1: Part 1

**_The 14__th__ day of Storm Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Streets of Summersea, Emelan_**

"Tell me again why you're doing this?" She asked the bobbing head in front of her as she quickly dodged a donkey pulled cart about to release its dung. "My house is perfectly-" Where she backed up into a woman with a squalling baby on her back and a basket propped on one hip.

"Watch where you're goin!" She apologized, bowed and waited for the woman to move on.

"_Kaq_," she muttered. It was going to be one of those days again in Summersea. One of those days where she wished she didn't live in such a bustling city full of landsmen, one where she wished she was back on a ship with the salty sea breeze blowing through her braids and the sea all around her. She pulled her coat tighter around her, the cold air off the harbor blowing strongly. She would even take the quiet little house called Discipline with its thatched roof over her own forge sometimes.

"_That_ is why I'm doing this," said her companion. She smiled in response. Her companion, with her cornflower blue eyes, maneuvered through the street like she was made for it. Of course, _Lady_ Sandrilene fa Toren, in all her nobleness was as much a noble as _she _was, even if her blood deemed her one.

"Besides Daja, when you see this place you'll understand what I mean." Daja smiled at her. She wasn't sure she would, but she did understand the look in her _saati's _eyes all too well. Sandry only had that look when she had big plans that required plenty of time, money and large sums of clothing. Perhaps even some of her nobleness.

"We shall see," she responded as she walked around what looked like a merchant haggling for lower prices that vaguely reminded her of her other sister, her eyes softening.

_I miss her too. How long do you think she'll be gone this time?_

_Who knows_, she said. _But she's a fast learner so perhaps it'll be quicker than one of her tempers._

Sandry turned her head and smiled.

_One can only hope._

**_½ mile West of Summersea  
><em>_Along the cliff of the Pebbled Sea_**

"Shurri defend me," Daja whispered. She gripped the staff she held before her in the saddle as she saw Sandry swing down from her mount and approach what Daja suspected was Sandry's surprise. She was afraid to get down from her horse. Surely Sandry didn't mean…

Daja looked around at the guards surrounding her and their guarded smiles met her eyes. Sandry did mean this.

Sandry propped her hands on her hips and smiled, turning to look back at Daja.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Daja gripped her Trader staff even tighter as her horse shifted nervously. Daja dismounted to save her horse some uneasiness. She walked slowly up to Sandry, standing next to her and leaned heavily against her staff.

"What do you think?" Daja's eyes widened farther than she had intended to let them at her sister's obliviousness to Daja's growing concern. She watched as Sandry turned her body towards her, the silence from Daja stretching painfully.

"Daja?" When she felt Sandry's presence at the edge of their bond, she quickly struck down on it like the hammer of Hakkoi, shutting Sandry out of her thoughts. She watched as the wrinkle she was quickly beginning to recognize as Sandry's puzzled but irritated one form between her brows.

"Why did you shut me out?" Daja reigned in her emotions and put on her best Trader face, the one she used when her family had told her to deal with _lugsha_, polite and smiling.

Sandry's wrinkle deepened further. "It's…going to be lovely Sandry. Once it's been fixed up a bit." _A bit_ was an understatement, Daja thought. Where was Tris when you needed her? Daja smiled, using all her teeth and turned to the daunting structure before her.

Sandry seemed to move past Daja's initial reaction and Daja barely heard her as she began to talk numbers and how her Uncle thought it a wonderful idea to have a place of her own.

What Daja couldn't seem to grasp was how Sandry had managed to find the old thing nor was she going to thank whoever had helped her.

The daunting structure was a three story building that stood at the corner of what would be a landsmen's mess. There was another empty building some yards away down what she suspected to be the remains of a stone wall that must have stood at least one story tall before it had been reduced to rubble. It now only stood about a foot from the ground. Inside that remaining wall was a tangling mess of jungle that would give even Rosethorn a run for her money. Daja also noticed a small shed in the farthest corner of the jungle that had withstood whatever had taken the rest of the house down. She shook her head in amazement. Leave it to Sandry to find something that needed all this work.

She looked to her left and the Pebbled Sea stretched out before her, the breeze carrying smells she missed from her seafaring days. She noticed that the Duke's Citadel was a little more than a ¼ mile to the south, just down the road.

Perhaps in its youth this place had been beautiful but now it spoke of long days in repair and money.

Daja sat down and crossed her legs, placing the staff across her knees, thinking hard. She would _have_ to think hard because Sandry had that look on her face. If Sandry had money and time, it would be a beautiful home. She had just been complaining that morning that living in the capital was often irritating. And it wasn't so far from the Citadel or Summersea that they couldn't pack up a cart in the morning and be in the city by midmorning or early afternoon which meant that Winding Circle wasn't that much farther away either.

"_Saati_, how is it that you plan on…fixing this?" Daja looked up into Sandry's eyes. When Sandry sat down next to her, she knew it would be useless to tell her no. Daja was just going to have to find a way to break this to her other foster-siblings.

"Uncle offered me extra money when I showed him this place, which _he_ thinks is positively perfect for us by the way." Daja heard the cheek in her sister's voice but ignored it. If Sandry had seen Daja's initial reaction to her…_new project_ then she didn't need to hide all the problems it could present.

"And did you accept?" Daja thought she knew her sister well enough to know that answer though.

Sandry lifted her nose at her, a gesture Daja hadn't seen in some time. She ducked her head and smiled. "Of course not," her sister replied.

"Although Uncle _is_ the one who pushed me to find a new project. He seems to think I have too much time to worry about him at home." Daja felt, rather than saw Sandry's lip tremble at this. Though her Uncle's heart attack had been five years ago, it was still a constant source of her worries, especially when certain sons began to make it their priorities to be involved. "I think it may have to do with Yazmín to be honest. It's still a bit early to tell." Daja snorted, Sandry smiled knowingly. Though Daja was sure Sandry kept herself out of her Uncle's love life, she couldn't imagine having your great-niece present through that no matter how helpful she might be.

"What was your plan then?" Sandry's head perked up and a smile began to form again.

"You aren't mad then? That I want to buy a house where we all can live together, _away _from that-that beehive of busy bodies that I love but sometimes wish to clobber silly? Even though you already have a home for all of us already?" Sandry's eyes were large against her face and both her hands cradled one of Daja's own.

Just like Sandry to be worried about that, Daja thought and laughed.

"Sandry, _saati_," said Daja and she gripped one of her hands back. "There's nothing that says having _two_ homes is a bad thing." Sandry's eyes filled with tears and then she too laughed.

"Oh I'm being silly aren't I?" Daja chuckled as she pulled out her handkerchief and passed it to Sandry. She wiped her face and blew her nose lightly.

"I had just thought that since you had gone to the trouble of buying us a home first…" She paused and waited.

"Sandry, it doesn't mean you can't buy your own home." Sandry nodded. "And you heard me this morning. I just may have to split my time between the two." Sandry smiled at Daja.

"And perhaps I can turn my house into a shop. The forge already is one in a way. And I'm sure you were thinking of Briar when you saw that garden and I have _nothing_ of the sort at my house," she added. Sandry nodded vigorously.

"I do think he needs a different distraction. Something other than the female kind," Sandry muttered. Daja chuckled.

_And this home being outside of the city has nothing to do with that?_

_Of course not,_ she replied innocently, her back straightening. Daja smirked.

It was never simple with her. For someone so small, she was always thinking big.

"You always have to think big, don't you _saati_." Sandry turned her face up into the sun and smiled.

"Daja, if I didn't think big, there never would have been a circle." She turned to her friend, the light behind her eyes spreading to Daja's, four sets of palms burning with heat.

"There never would have been us."

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness. <strong>

**A/N**: I have been dying to do something for the Circle for a long time now and I believe I finally have it. Tamora Pierce is my favorite author, her Circle books my favorite and Briar and Tris are my favorite characters. There will be a couple in this story, it just isn't established here. Briar and Tris will be the main focus though. This story will have most all of the characters in it though. There will be an OC as well, since OC's are my specialty. But that's not for a while.

**Also, for those who do not know, ****Storm Moon**** is the month of February. ****K.F.**** is after the fall of the Kurchal Empire. **

I'm not a very fast updater either, for those of you not acquainted with my other works. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you in the future! Please review before you leave!


	2. Chapter 1: Part 2

**EM:** A Circle story from my heart. Thank you so much to the four of you who reviewed! They made me feel so awesome! Anyway welcome back and I do so hope that you enjoy.

**Rating: **This chapter is Rated **M** because Briar is, well, Briar.

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

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><p><span>Chapter 1: Part 2<span>

**_The 14__th__ day of Storm, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_½ mile West of Summersea  
><em>_Along the cliff of the Pebbled Sea_**

They had decided to take lunch before taking a look further into the mess that Sandry had already dubbed her home, when Daja thought it would be a good idea to fill in her foster-brother on Sandry's plans, since her other sister was too far away to communicate with.

He should be free, she thought. She felt along her connection, following the green vine until the thickness indicated when she was close enough for him to hear.

_Briar_, she called. When he didn't respond she pushed a little harder through their connection until it strengthened and suddenly Daja felt a moan vibrate deep in her throat and pressure build between her legs, as images of flesh colored legs dripping with sweat and chestnut colored hair cascaded down an arched back.

Daja slammed up a barrier of hot metal between her and Briar, hammering at it until she was sure nothing could leak through their connection and then dropped it into a bucket of cold water.

Daja held her breath for a count of seven, feeling Sandry's eyes on her, and then released that breath, concentrating on getting her emotions under control.

Briar's with the soul healer all right, she thought.

She sighed deep within herself, the bellows releasing all of its air. She released all of the emotion she had taken from Briar and blew it away from her. She continued the exercise four times. Only when she was sure that she was under control of her own body did she drop her walls.

_Thanks a lot Daj'._

There was Briar's magical self, shirtless and sweaty in her mind's eyes. He was slightly breathless and the scowl on his face told her he was not pleased. Daja thanked Trader Koma and Bookkeeper Oti that she had been blessed with her Trader poise and control because Briar's emotions were still managing to leak through her barrier a little and he was definitely not in control of them.

_And what did we tell you about bedding the __last__ soul healer Briar?_

He growled. Daja glanced in Sandry's direction to find her attention on one of her guards, inspecting an outer garment of his. She prayed to Shurri that Sandry's attention didn't turn to her or decide to check in on Briar.

_You're lucky Sandry's attention is otherwise diverted and it was me who found you like that. _

He grunted.

_Leave me be while I get decent, will ya?_ She closed off her mind to give him what he wanted. She almost wished she had stepped in on her sister Tris playing with lighting than Briar in bed with a woman. She shook her head at the thought when she felt Briar poke at her connection.

_What did you want that you had to interrupt me for?_

She watched as he handed the soul healer coins, a deep smile caressing her face. Briar smiled in return and turned away, disappearing into the afternoon crowd.

_I didn't think you paid them._ She felt his recoil at her words.

_She did attempt to heal me first Daj'. And you should know I'm not the type to pay for it. Rosethorn raised me better'n that. _He sounded offended.

_I was only making a statement._ She felt him dodge a cart laden full of goods, cursing. Although she wouldn't deny that was checking to be sure he wasn't paying for _that_. She knew Briar wasn't the type to do that, but things had taken a different turn when Sandry had stuck her nose into his business and started bustling him off to one soul healer after another. She scolded herself for momentarily doubting him.

_Well get on with it then. What did you want?_ She bristled at his coarseness but moved on. She_ had_ interrupted him.

_Take a look at this._ She turned her head toward Sandry's mess, felt Sandry's full focus back on her and took in the tower, empty building and the jungle once more. She felt Briar halt in the middle of the street and look fully through her eyes.

_What in Lakik's teeth is that?_ Daja smiled in satisfaction. She knew one of her other foster-siblings would feel the same.

_Sandry's newest project._ She felt him tense up and then continue his trek on home, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his breeches pockets.

'_Bought time she found a new play-thing._

Daja grimaced. Recently Sandry had taken it into her hands to take on projects, particularly things that needed fixing. She thought it was especially imperative that Briar visit every soul healer there was in Summersea. It seemed to start after Tris' departure for Lightsbridge. First it was clothes for the children of the Mire that had resulted in a lot of visits that Daja did not appreciate. Then it was changing the style of all the cloth in Daja's house from the mixture of Namornese, which she suspected Sandry did not want around because of Berenene and coming up with a style all her own that included something of the what the Duke had to what they had had in Discipline to what Sandry had developed over time. Daja had had nothing really to complain over that one. The last had resulted in Briar seeing soul healer's throughout Summersea. Daja was even beginning to wonder if he bedded them out of contempt for Sandry's meddling.

_So what do you think of it?_ Briar peered through her eyes one more time and shrugged his shoulders. She felt a small tendril of his magic leak out toward the now wriggling greenery before them. It must feel his presence, she thought. Even when he's so far away, he can still have that kind of effect. Daja was impressed but she kept her thoughts to herself.

_As much as you may be against this Daj' I wouldn't mind her nobleness out of __my__ neb._

Daja had suspected as much.

_Well she'll probably want to show it to you as well later. _

_Long as it ain't no soul healer I'll go wherever her highness likes. I'll even clap my hands and spin 'round three times, like a bleat-brain. _Daja chuckled.

_See you at home then?_ He grunted his affirmation and took off for home, cutting off their connection.

"Talking with Briar?" Daja turned to Sandry and nodded. "Did you show him?" She nodded again but said nothing further, taking a large bite into her cheese, chewing and swallowing, thinking about what Briar had said. He seemed to be in a bitter mood these days. Perhaps she ought to tell Sandry to back off on the soul healer bit?

"Well. What did he say Daja?" Daja turned to Sandry, her blue eyes impatient.

"He didn't say much, really. I think he's alright with it." Sandry nodded, though she could tell something else was wrong. She didn't push any further. When she tested her bond with Briar she found it closed off and sighed. Lately he had been very restless and had taken to sleeping in his bedroll _under _the bed.

And _that _worried Sandry.

"He's been sleeping under the bed Daja," she spoke aloud. She glanced at Daja and saw her grimace in return and nod.

"I found him in the forge the other night," she countered back. Sandry turned to Daja shocked. Sometimes she hated splitting her time between being at the Citadel and with her brother and sisters.

"I didn't know about that. Why was he in there?" She looked to Daja as she dusted her hands on her breeches, chewing the last of her bread.

"He told me it was greener out there," and she shook her head unbelievably, her braids swinging back and forth.

"Though I'm not sure how. There aren't any plants, unless you count my materials which can still hardly be considered plants." Sandry sat up straighter. "He had his shakkan with him, of course." Daja shook her head again, eyes only slightly worried.

_Then it's settled. I'm buying this land and this house and I'm fixing it up. And if not for me than for Briar. If plants are what he needs,_ and Sandry turned to the tangle of greenery, imagining Briar's lithe form bent over the many plants, ankle deep in dirt, maybe even smiling, perhaps able to sleep through the night for once.

_If plants are what he needs, then I'll give him a forest. _

Daja turned to her sister and smiled. She's all on her dignity again, Daja thought. Sandry could be stubborn, bred from the best mules, but she always took care of her family. Briar may not like how pushy she could be, but she wanted to help him and Daja felt the same. She may not have resorted to Sandry's ways, forcing Briar into the hands of one soul healer after another but perhaps she had better start doing something.

"You're thinking of tearing down one side of the wall and extending it aren't you." Sandry smiled and stood up, reaching down a hand for Daja. She took it and stood with her, walking towards what Sandry was going to call her new home. Two guards followed them. "It's not a bad idea. It would give him plenty of room to do as he pleases. Keep him busy."

"It's going to be harder to work through the land without Tris here," Sandry muttered. Daja agreed but she didn't mind. There was little work at the forge and suddenly the idea of hard labor had her in a good mood. She was _excited_.

"The tower is still in good shape," Daja commented, eyeing the empty building that stood at the other end of the wall.

"Isn't it?" Sandry looked up, shading her eyes and missed the hole in the ground. She pitched forward, squeaked and was caught at the elbow by the guard at her left.

"Oh, my goodness, thank you so much," she said and when she looked up at her rescuer she blushed slightly and turned away, quicker than she had wanted. Daja took note of this and eyed the guard.

He's attractive, she thought. Attractive and young.

Daja shook her and smiled. It was about time Sandry found someone to pique her interest. After the Namorn incident Daja had been afraid Sandry would be adverse to any man in her life other than Briar, her Uncle and their teachers.

"What do you, um, think of the empty building at the end? I admit I don't really have any uses for it." Daja stopped at the wall, its foundation more damaged than she had first seen.

"The wall's going to need more repair than I had first anticipated," she said as an afterthought. She looked up and down the wall, toward the building. It was large and the open doors suggested that it could have once been used as a barn. There was a second story loft and it was spacious inside. Daja couldn't help it. This building was much larger than her forge in Summersea and she was envisioning another forge, one larger where she could handle bigger projects. One where she could have the room and plenty left over to keep everything that she had and do what she needed in that place.

Not that she didn't love her home in Summersea nor did she want to get rid of it, but this place offered her something else, something different. This place reminded her of Discipline and Winding Circle without her teachers and the Hub clock strikes. This place could offer her quiet and solitude when she wanted it. There was something about this place that she wanted to know.

"Daja?" She looked down at Sandry, smiling slowly.

"You knew I was going to like it didn't you?" She asked in Tradertalk. "You have the tower for Tris, which I bet you'll convert two stories into libraries and her rooms." She watched as Sandry's face grew still, her features taking on a pleasant, reserved look. Daja knew that look as well. "The garden was for Briar, the solitude so that he would have time to heal on his own. You know he won't take the soul healers seriously. And the building over there is for me to convert into another forge. And even if I wasn't, you were going to do that on your own weren't you." Sandry folded her hands neatly before her and turned her nose up slightly at Daja's words.

_Some things truly never change._

Sandry did not respond. Daja watched as she kept her face straight, never straying from the tower.

"Do you want anything for yourself _saati_? A house for yourself? A family of your own?" Sandry turned to Daja, a small smile gracing her delicate features. Daja felt an avalanche of emotions fall through their bond and she felt Sandry's hand slip through hers.

"Tris, Briar, you. All of you are my family. Lark, Rosethorn, Niko, Frostpine, Uncle, Pasco, even Yazmín. Without any of you in my life, I wouldn't have anything." Sandry squeezed Daja's fingers and turned back to the land before her.

"Wherever we are together is where I want to be. That's my home. That's where I'm happy."

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness. <strong>

**A/N**: These first two chapters were a prologue. I'll more than likely have an author's note at the end of each one giving you facts and notes if they are needed. Ratings may change within chapters as well, depending on what the contents are.

These two chapters were also a bit Daja-centric because I feel she's the steadiest character and she was the best one for the beginning. But I'll probably end up rotating through each of the characters perspectives, Sandry's the least most likely (she's my least favorite character).

Hope you all enjoyed and that I'll see you next time.


	3. Chapter 2

**EM:** A Circle story from my heart. Welcome back.

I would like to thank all of you who reviewed. **L.A.H.H., jennedy, lacking a better name, NoirGrimoir, theoriginalclichedlostsoul, cowza, I Do Not Stumble For Thy. **You've made me SO very happy. I am sorry to say that I gave up responding to people's reviews a long time ago, strictly due to time constraints. I simply don't have time, my lovely reviewers and as much as I would love to say that you are the most wonderful people in the world for taking the time to click that little Review button on the bottom I really can't. So I do it here. Thank you so much for being my first cherry poppin' reviewers for this story (haha). I really hope you guys continue to do so in the future.

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

**Warning: **Tris might be a bit OOC. I KNOW this.

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><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

**_The 3__rd__ day of Rose Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>**_**The Northern Gate of Winding Circle, Emelan**  
><em>

"Sandry slow down. She won't be going anywhere once she gets there." Sandry turned her head to glare at her sister, though the resemblance between them was far and between anything of sisters.

"You don't know that." Sandry glared at her sister and then withered slightly at Daja's look. "Why must she always do this? She didn't even tell us she was coming home!" Their third companion was stopped at the gate, one hand crawling with live flowers and tattooed ones, his gaze focused intently on the vines wrapping tightly around his wrist.

Something isn't right, he thought. He ran a hand that bloomed black and grey flowers over his short black hair and turned back to his foster-sisters that were moving further ahead of him, arguing back and forth. He didn't hurry though. He knew the way just as well as they did, even if it had been some time since he'd been back.

They've been arguing about a lot of things lately, he thought. He thrust his hands into his pockets and made the twisty turns to his once home, losing sight of the girls eventually. He looked up to the sky, grey with heavy clouds and found it ironic. The day she comes back and it looks as if it's going to storm.

Wonder is she did that on purpose? He thought. Brought a storm with her.

He shook his head. She wouldn't mess with the natural way of things no matter how much she may have wanted it. Looking down the path, he found a familiar thatched roof followed by a flood of young memories, some good and others not. There was a feeling of dread building in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't shake. He gritted his teeth. He felt a kick to his step and found that he wanted to get to Discipline faster than he was moving.

**_Discipline Cottage, Winding Circle_**

"Bear if I have to tell you to get down one more time I will cocoon you with that blanket." He couldn't help but smile slightly as he pushed open the too small gate, remembering a time when Sandry had used it to hold back Crane from coming in. He chuckled. Things had been bigger then.

His smile fell when he felt the ground quivering beneath his feet, the plants stretching to welcome him. He felt with his magic and was overwhelmed by a sense of fear and anticipation. Anticipation for rain they had not expected. Fear for their unexpected visitor.

He moved quickly for the door, pushing it open. He met Daja's eyes first. He was shocked to find them filled with anticipation and was that unease? When was the last time Daja had looked edgy?

"Why didn't they do anything about it? Surely the professors there noticed what was happening?" He heard the anger in Sandry's voice that tried to quell the fear that was rising to dominate it. He felt Rosethorn first before she came out of the kitchen. He pushed down Little Bear absently, petting his head to calm him.

"Rosethorn," he said questioningly. Her eyes narrowed. He saw that her hands were still covered in dirt as were her bare feet, her hat hanging down her back. She must have come in straight from the garden.

"Briar." He clenched his hands. The times she had called him by name in that tone he could count on two hands. And many of those had been during Gyongxe.

"My dear, she went there to become one of them. She hid her true nature, for all intents and purposes and-"

"They should have treated her better than that! Scholars should know better!" Briar could hear Lark sighing in patience.

"Sandry." If anyone could temper Sandry's anger and fear it was Lark and Duke Vedris. "My dear," another pause, "she doesn't need to hear us fighting about this. She's had a long trip home and I am sure she's tired." Briar heard Sandry sniffle and the rustle of cloth.

"But did you see her? She's so-" He heard more rustling as their voices went silent and looked into Rosethorn's eyes again. And this time he saw a sadness there. Something he had not thought he would see again.

"Briar don't-" He pushed past Rosethorn and Daja, through the kitchen, avoiding Sandry and Lark's eyes and into the garden, the door falling shut behind him.

_Briar, she said she doesn't want to see anyone._

_Since when have I ever cared a twitch about what she wants?_

This time he felt along the dim grey connection that was his other foster-sister. It flickered dangerously between red and purple and grey, little lightings suddenly rippling along his arms, making the hairs stand on end, but when he tried to talk to her it was like trying to talk across cliffs. His voice seemed to be carried off by the wind and lost forever. He growled in impatience and followed it, continuing to push against their connection, sometimes even slamming against it. When he felt their bond thicken he knew he was making her angry. He wriggled his toes in the dirt, feeling that same comfortable easiness that always came with Rosethorn's garden. This was _his _place of solitude and safety. _He _had made a home in this garden far before she had and he would be _damned_ if she was going to use it to keep him away. These were his friends first before they were hers.

He asked the plants that wrapped around him, stretched toward him, where the fiery red-head was. They all hesitated, something they had never done before.

They told him that she didn't want to be around anyone but the plants. That even their stern but tender caretaker had left her alone with them when she had thrown off brightly colored lights.

Briar blanched slightly. Rosethorn had left her alone, in the garden, when she had been throwing off lightnings.

I'll be pinched, he thought. He forcefully pushed the plants away from him, apologizing along the way, and stomped toward the place where the greenery was thickest.

And stopped short at the sight before him.

Lightning skipped over Tris like it would on any other day, except that it was faded and it was weak. There wasn't any emotion behind the lightning. And as he took in his foster-sisters state he knew then what Sandry had been about to say.

_She's so thin. _He felt Sandry whimper and Daja harden. He hadn't realized the girls were connected to him.

"Go away Briar." He watched as she cupped a handful of the lightnings, no emotion on her face, the words empty in the space between them.

Tris had never been thin, he knew that. Sure there had always been more to her than Sandry and Daja, but he loved all of his foster-sisters, no matter what, especially Tris. But this?

Her dress, one of the blue ones that Sandry had made for her, hung loose about her frame, looser than it had been made for her. But he noticed it more in her face. He could see her cheekbones, the hollow look to her eyes. Her nose looked even more hawk-like now. She looked so _tired_. When had he been able to see that curve to her neck, that strong jaw line so vividly?

"Coppercurls," he said and saw that there wasn't any recognition to her favorite nickname. And it was at _that_ that something in him snapped. He closed the space between them.

"I told you to go away." He didn't even stop when the purple lightning jumped to him and crawled over his body. He felt the hairs on his arm stand on end, the slight pin prick of electricity but that didn't stop him. The plants around him quivered in anticipation as he approached her and knelt. When he reached out to her she flinched.

His mouth dropped open. Tris had never flinched with him, had never been afraid of his touch.

_Never_.

"What did they do to you," he growled out, letting his hand fall away. If he found out that _anyone_ had hurt his Coppercurls, it would be _him_ that started a war this time, Emperor or no. He felt his skin vibrate as the lightnings skipped over each inch of his body, the small crackles suddenly filling his ears. His weak connection with Tris made the lighting hurt more than it should have. She fiddled with some grass in her hands.

When she still didn't move, he flinched as a particularly large lighting seed wrapped lovingly around his wrist. He felt, rather than saw, as she noticed this as well.

She didn't look up at him as she reached over and lightly touched his pant-leg with one finger and the lightnings trickled off his skin and into her waiting hand and back into her skin.

"You should go inside." He watched as she turned her face up toward the sky and closed her eyes. "Storm's coming," she said softly.

He looked up at the sky, briefly taking his eyes off her. "There wasn't supposed to be a storm today," he remarked as he looked back at her. And there it was. The tiniest lift of her lips at the corner.

"I brought it with me." His eyes widened and looked up at the sky once more. He looked to her again, searching those storm-grey eyes of her own. "I made sure it wasn't needed somewhere else, of course, that nothing else would be affected. Niko would kill me otherwise." She pondered the thought. "He still may," she added quietly.

Briar rolled back onto his heels. This wasn't Tris. Not his foster-sister. Where was the spark, that quick-witted nature of hers? She was always the one who could keep up with him. She could always bounce back from anything, never mind the fact that she hardly let anything get to her. Not like this.

_She won't let us in Briar. Daja and I can't get anywhere near our connection with her. _

He knew that well enough. She didn't want them to know what was going on inside of her. When he had come back from Gyongxe he had done everything to keep the girls out of his mind. There were still things he didn't share with them.

_What happened there that she can't share it with _us_?_ He felt Daja wrap an arm around Sandry's shoulders as she began to cry softly.

"Tris," she dropped her head. He reached out hesitantly. If she recoiled from him like that again he wasn't sure he could sit here and take that from his foster-sister. Not Tris. Not _Coppercurls_.

When his hand met her shoulder he watched as a single, silent tear fell down her pale freckled cheek and she turned to look at him.

"I didn't flinch out of fear," she whispered softly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, multifaceted with colors. He distantly heard thunder rumble throughout the sky and Rosethorn's garden vibrated in excitement. He could feel them stretch toward the sky and spread their roots far, waiting for the downpour that was bound to come.

"Just didn't want you to see me cry," she said in the softest voice that Briar had to strain to hear over the rising outcry in the sky.

But Briar could only focus on the face before him. Tris was on the brink of an emotional breakdown and yet her powers were under the best behavior that she could give at this moment.

He dropped to his knees and wiped away that stray tear, a spark making his finger prick.

"Looks like somebody learned more control on their powers I'd say," and he made the flowers on that hand bloom blue, purple, yellow and white. He saw her eyes light up just the tiniest bit.

"Never thought you were one to push around the weather either. Always knew you liked to push around people though," and she turned her face away slightly. "You get that from Sandry you know."

_I do _not_ push people around._

_Shush saati. Let him talk._

He saw the corner of Tris' mouth go up just a little again. So she was listening, he thought. If not to the girls directly, than through him at least.

_You know we're here for you Coppercurls. We always are. _He waited for her, for some kind of response. She rubbed a blade of grass between her forefinger and thumb.

"I just wanted to be normal Briar." When she turned her face back to his he saw her seed lighting running across her face over her tears, drying them before they had a chance to fall. He smiled thinly.

"When has normal ever been fun?" Her lip quivered again. His heart skipped a beat and his emotions wavered as his connections with Sandry and Daja were overwhelmed by theirs. They wanted to be out here with her _right now_.

Suddenly he heard Chime's screeching call and looked up. She was soaring overhead, her glass wings flickering in the grey light. He hadn't even realized she was gone, which was unusual. She was always at Tris' side.

"Coppercurls," he said but didn't get to finish. Rain fell from the clouds overhead, the plants around him rejoicing in an unexpected shower. He wanted to be with them, to feel the joy that they did, but one look at Tris' face and he knew that she was crying, this time with no lighting to stop it. His foster-sister Tris, the one he could tell almost anything too, the one he had almost told about all about Gyongxe, was crying.

And he didn't know why.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness. <strong>

**A/N**: Just as a reference: Tris at this time now, was only gone away at school for one year. Thank you for reading and I hope to see you next chapter!


	4. Chapter 3

**EM:** A Circle story from my heart. Thank you so much to** Alice Hell**,** Moonprincess202**, **Annie**,** Kimchiluv** and **Person** for their first time review. I'm so glad you guys are here. And Welcome Back to the rest of you. I know, I know. I'm running so behind with this. I hope you all had wonderful holidays!

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

**_The 24__th__ day of Rose Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Number 6 Cheeseman Street  
><em>_Summersea_**

She couldn't believe it. Not the sharp pain that speared through her index finger, no. It was that imp-blested _stain_. That red dot quickly spread out over the fabric, ruining what was a very beautiful shade of lilac.

Did I really just do that? She thought, stunned. The needle was hovering over her blood-stained finger, the red dot slowly getting bigger. Crimson spiked out over the delicate lines of thread she had worked to rearrange. _Cat dirt…_

She looked up at her flustered companion, who had stormed over to the open window and had slammed it shut against the ongoing clamor outside.

_Sandry? Is everything alright? _

Sandry didn't answer right away. If there was one thing she was beginning to understand, it was that her sister Tris was becoming even more unpredictable than a squall. Even more so now after her return from Lightsbridge. And they had all found out the hard way that her time there was something she was not going to share.

_Cat dirt, cat dirt, cat dirt!_

_What is it Sandry?_

She looked down at the garment in her hands. She heard Daja's soft sigh of acknowledgment. _She startled you didn't she. _Sandry sniffled in defiance, her finger throbbing slightly.

_You'll be able to fix it saati. Don't worry. _

Sandry smiled just a little. It wasn't just the blood on the cloth that she was upset about though. Tris had changed, so much so that Sandry was baffled by it. Suddenly, instead of one Briar in the house, there were two. Except that Tris would lose control on her emotions and then gain them back as quick as lightning. It was just a matter of catching when it would happen. And the only one who had ever been able to do that was Tris.

She sighed and drew her power through the thread and over the blood that had seeped through it, concentrating on her task at hand and trying to look like she was not focusing only on her sister.

Tris was staring down through the closed window, not a single wind to disturb her. A preposterous notion indeed, yet there she stood, staring out it like she wanted to be out there instead of trapped in here. But she knew better than to suggest re-opening the window when her sister was so distraught. If there was another thing Sandry was beginning to understand, it was that she was learning how to control her _own_ impulses, especially when it came to her sister.

**_The 8__th__ day of Rose Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Number 6 Cheeseman Street  
><em>_Summersea_**

"I don't know why you don't just open the window Tris. I know you want to." Sandry moved for the window, intent on opening it, determined to prove to her sister that she knew she was right. She could see it in her eyes that Tris wanted every breeze and every sound to be drifting around her form, to feel her braids moving with them. She needed to _hear_ and _see_ what was going on outside.

"Sandry, don't." Sandry ignored her sisters warning and continued towards the window. Tris needed those breezes. She had been living in that room for five days without any sort of breeze or storm to permeate it. She was cooping herself up in here and Sandry was fed up with it. Her sister needed some fresh air and she was going to make that happen. For Mila's sake, _she_ needed some fresh air.

"Sandry…" Sandry didn't notice that there were suddenly breezes in the room again, breezes that Tris had picked up from the downstairs open window. Sandry also hadn't noticed that those breezes were also picking at her dress and the few braids hanging down her back.

The moment Sandry unhinged the latch and opened the window, letting in an array of fresh air and tumbling background noise, it was like she was thrown off balance. One minute she was standing and the next she was flat on her bottom, trying to catch her breath, the window slamming shut with a terrible force.

She heard a thundering noise coming up the stairs along with a screeching cry as Chime flew through the open door alighting on Tris' shoulder and squeezing hard, causing Tris to inhale sharply. Briar came through next, his chest moving fast with exertion, looking between the two of them.

"What happened?" Sandry was stunned speechless, her eyes never leaving Tris. Her sister hadn't hurt her, but she had forcefully moved her. Something she had not thought possible. Tris' eyes brimmed with tears, something that was beginning to happen more and more, and Sandry watched as she stormed out of the room, roughly brushing past Briar, who didn't know whether to follow her or not.

Briar turned to go after her but stopped, the flowers of his tattoo wriggling agitatedly. He breathed deeply and walked over to Sandry, helping her up, sweeping back the stray strands of her hair and then cupping her face with his hand.

"Are you alright?" When her eyes filled with tears, he gripped her shoulders tight. She couldn't believe that Tris had just done that.

"I'm not hurt, really. It's just…" She watched as Briar's eyes filled with apprehension and she could sense his conflicting emotions inside to stay with her or to go after Tris.

"I'm just shocked that she would do that. Really I'm fine. Go, find Tris. See if she's okay." Briar squeezed her shoulders once more and quickly walked off.

Sandry brushed at the tears falling down her face and collapsed into a nearby chair.

What had happened to her sister?

**_The 24__th__ day of Rose Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Summersea_**

After that day, she and Daja had decided to speed up the restoration process for her cliff house. Daja knew it would go much faster if she was there to help and so she stayed there for the better part of the weeks. A lot had been accomplished these past three weeks and Sandry was glad for it. Tris' moods struck like a summer storm and Sandry wondered sometimes what would be left standing in the end. Tris needed the solitude and the peace of that cliff house and it was only a matter of time before it was completed. She only hoped that Tris could hold out until then.

"Tris…" She waited for Tris to acknowledge that she had been heard. She was now sitting in the chair by the window, staring out with a longing in her eyes that Sandry recognized from the way her Uncle looked at Yazmín.

It hurt her to see her sister denying everything that she wanted, _needed_, most at the moment. Sandry sighed.

"You remember that Niko is coming to visit today, right?" It took her a moment, but Sandry watched as Tris shifted uncomfortably. That was another development within her. She had grown to be distant with all of their teachers, something that Sandry did not like at all. Never mind that she switched moods at the drop of a needle. She had grown to be cold and quiet whenever they were around, especially Niko.

Sandry knew her sister well. Tris was a quiet, contemplative person to begin with. And she spoke when there was something worth speaking about. But when it came to her teachers and her siblings, there should have been nothing to stop her from speaking freely to them when she wanted to. Any other time she would have given them a piece of her mind. Instead it was like they were the ones she was avoiding talking to. And that was _not_ the Tris she knew.

"Briar went to meet him at the east gate with Chime." She watched Tris' back with growing concern.

When she was met with more silence, she sighed heavily. Sometimes it was like Tris wasn't even there. Other times she was so explosive. The control on her emotions was so fine-tuned yet not Sandry was astounded. One minute Tris would be sitting there, looking out the window like she was about to open it and the next she could be throwing lightning bolts around the room and then stopping them at the drop of a spindle. Tris could control the magic, Sandry was sure of that, but it was her emotions that she was having trouble with. And Sandry wanted to hug her every time she started to cry.

"Are you going to speak with him this time?" Her fingers continued to work the material as she eyed her sister and resisted the sudden urge to mother. When she still didn't move, Sandry focused back on her work.

"He's your _friend_, Tris. He still loves you no matter what happened."

**_The 3__rd__ day of Rose Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Discipline Cottage  
><em>_Emelan_**

"I'm not sitting here anymore." Sandry made another attempt to rise but Daja put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down into her seat.

_Sit Sandry. Briar can handle this. _

Thunder rumbled overhead and Sandry didn't sit. She paced the room, finding it smaller and smaller each time she made a round. Daja sat at the table with Lark and Rosethorn stood by the door, looking out the window, worry furrowing her brow. Worry for both her plants and her boy.

This storm should not have come here.

"Where is he Lark? He should have been here by now." Lark only shook her head slightly in response as Sandry looked at Daja questioningly, her brows snapping together in concentration.

_Are they talking about Niko? Why is _Rosethorn_ worried about him not being here? _

Daja's brow went up in response. _Perhaps she's…concerned about her._

Sandry choked on her own spit and started coughing violently. She received questioning looks from both of her teachers and tried to take deep breaths. _Rosethorn concerned? About what?_

Daja just shrugged her shoulders inconspicuously and went back to braiding and heating her iron.

\_/

Bear barked once and then bounded for the door, his tail whipping back and forth in frenzy. And when the door opened revealing a dripping wet, very tall gray-haired man, Bear jumped up and immediately started licking his face in affection.

"Bear," he warned in a deep, low voice and Bear responded effectively, if not happily by jumping back down and promptly putting his rear end right on the ground, tail still moving. The man sighed wearily and leaned down to rub his head, longer than usual.

"Niko, where have you been?" As he stripped himself of his hat and raincoat and handed them over to a waiting Lark, he turned to Rosethorn with a troubled look in his eyes.

"I came here as fast as I could Rose, but there were other…matters that demanded my presence. As it was, I knew that you could all handle the situation." Sandry huffed toward Niko and Daja smiled a little as she watched him take a deep breath. She wasn't going to get in Sandry's way this time.

"A situation?" She responded angrily, her voice rising. How dare Niko act so callously to what was happening. "Tris is not a situation Niko. She is my sister, _your_ student and _our_ friend." She paused to take a breath and continued on, in a much softer voice. "She's hurting Niko. And we don't know why. Briar's out there and she won't even tell _him_ why. You know how much closer she is to him than to Daja or I." Niko took a deep breath and then pulled up a chair at the table, folding his hands before him, sighing heavily.

Sandry waited as Niko seemed to ponder his thoughts, but as more time went on she grew impatient. What was he doing just sitting there?

"Niko!" But she halted when his hand rose before her.

"Sandrilene," and something inside of her froze. Rarely did her teachers ever call her by her first name and when they did it was never good. "Trisana has abused her power." Very bad, indeed.

Sandry grew rigid and felt her connections to Daja and Briar do the same.

_What? He can't be serious._

_Tris would never do anything so reckless-_

_Briar, what's going on out there? _

_Now girls. Don't get your riding trousers all twisted. _Sandry scowled at Briar's lack of concern for their teacher's blatant accusation of Tris.

_Briar! Niko is accusing Tris of using her magic wrong-_

_She has._

Both the girls digested Briar's wordsand Sandry was the first to respond.

_What? What do you mean?_

_The storm._

Sandry stood stunned as her teachers conferred around her about whether they should keep Tris here at Discipline or if she should be taken before the Council. Daja stood up when the Council's name came into question. As much as she respected her teachers' decisions she didn't like the idea of a…_severely_ hurt Tris put on trial before them for something as easy to Tris as reading. And when Sandry still had not made a move to defend their sister, a feat very unlike her, she had decided to step in herself.

"Is taking her before the Council really necessary?" Sandry's hands started to tremble but she still could not form the words to speak.

_Get it together Sandry. _And she felt her connection with Briar tug abruptly, a reminiscent memory of a braid being tugged. She had not felt that familiar motion in a very long time and it served its purpose. She clasped her hands before her as she had done many times before her when dealing with a particularly difficult merchant or noble in the Citadel and set her shoulders straighter, her chin higher. Tris was _hurt_. Not a criminal.

"Tris will not be sent before the Circle Council. She is _hurting_, Master Niklaren," she said with all of the nobleness she could muster. She felt Briar laugh with genuine mirth and she felt Daja's resolve strengthen behind her. She had been waiting for her to come around.

_It's about time _saati_._

"She would not have brought a storm to Winding Circle without knowing full well the consequences of her actions," she gripped her left wrist in her hand for a different stance taught to her by a captain of her guard and continued on, not giving them any time to interrupt, "And we all know that she would only bring one if it was only _possible_." She watched her three teachers before her. Rosethorn's brow went up, Sandry hoped in some respect. Lark sighed, her only indication of even being in the room. And Niko continued to watch Sandry from beneath heavy brows glinting with what she suspected was both humor and impatience.

"If no one else has noticed that this storm does not belong and it hasn't upset the balance Nature has set then I don't see any reason for this to be mentioned." And with that she turned on her heel with finality, leaving no room for discussion which she knew Niko would press, and headed for the back door to Tris and Briar.

Where she stopped and looked over her shoulder one last time.

"And you should be ashamed for even thinking of giving up on your student like that Niko."

**_The 24__th__ day of Rose Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Summersea_**

And of course she had been absolutely wrong about Niko that day but she had certainly made her point clear. She was not going to abandon Tris.

_We're here Sandry. And he's just as nettled as she is. _Sandry sighed.

_Then give him something to drink downstairs and tell him you'll go get me. Don't bring him up here; she's already brewing. _

She felt him grumble in response and then his bond closed to her, where she then sighed in response. Childishly, she wished that they could be like they used to.

She heard two knocks at the door and then Briar popped through, his lanky body heavy with exhaustion, his green eyes dim. There was still some shock to the sight of his appearance but she kept it under control. One reason she was glad they didn't share everything anymore.

He took in the room and his eyes fell on Tris, his feet carrying him to her. She didn't acknowledge him when he came near but he didn't look like it mattered. He reached out slowly, allowing her time to know what he was going to do. Briar's patience of that with his shakkan's shone forth when he was with Tris and she saw that now more than ever, especially when she was at her worst.

His fingers grazed over her cheek lightly, the most physical contact she had allowed him, or anyone for that matter, since she had first returned. Violet sparks skipped over his weathered fingers but he was in no hurry to move away.

"Hey Coppercurls," he spoke softly, as if still connecting with one of his shakkans. His hand retreated slowly and he turned back to her. He had taken to that kind of response with Tris ever since she had retreated into this seclusion. Though she thought it was the best yet. Briar treated his shakkans with love and care and a firm voice and that was what Tris needed most at this time.

"You better hurry up," he said tiredly as he slid into an empty chair near Tris. "He's not exactly thrilled to be left down there with Chime." She smiled wanly. Chime was still up to her old ways, even if Tris wasn't.

_Did she…_

He shook his no, solemnly.

Her eyes lowered in knowing and she gathered herself. Now wasn't the time to ponder on things she couldn't do anything about. She had to address what was before her and Niko was waiting downstairs; impatiently.

When she opened the door she was greeted by Chime who alighted on her shoulder with a sharp pinch.

"Hello Chime," she said fondly. Taking one last glance into the room she watched Briar who watched Tris who was gazing intently at the closed window like it held every answer that she sought. Chime gripped her hard, drawing a gasp. Sandry didn't appreciate the pain, but she appreciated the motion. She closed the door knowing that Briar would take care of Tris while she tended to Niko.

Perhaps she would speak to him today.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness. <strong>

**A/N**: So it's longer than normal. And it flashes back and forth between Sandry's memories and the present. Some people may not like it. But really, I don't care. I always feel like Sandry's the one who would do that. I put the date before each segment. It's not hard to get. Hopefully none of you were confused. Hopefully you all enjoyed. Hopefully I see you next chapter!


	5. Chapter 4

**EM:** A Circle story from my heart. Thank you so much to **zenbon zakura** and **sesfx3** for first time reviewing! So glad you decided to drop in. As for everyone else who has returned, I'm delighted you are still here. My circle would not be known without all of you.

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4<span>

**_The 1__st__ day of Mead Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Number 6 Cheeseman Street_**

_-Cut off your hands you little-_

She cut at the rope of wind that had been feeding her the words of another merchant, angry at another thief. Or so she assumed. She hadn't meant to hear the exchange; it had slipped up from the downstairs window that Sandry left open.

On purpose.

Her blood boiled beneath her skin and she threw the rope-wind back downstairs where the window slammed shut. She _hmmph_ed in satisfaction.

And then a sigh escaped her, the winds in her twin braids twitching.

Three weeks. Three weeks she had been locking herself up in this room, without winds. No seeing or hearing. But she just couldn't bring herself to look upon the faces of Summersea. To chance seeing in them what she had ran from in Lightsbridge.

She shook her head and stood up abruptly, pacing the room. No. She couldn't do it. She had told herself when she had been in Rosethorn's garden that it didn't matter where she would go; everyone would see her as _they_ had. Even the people of the place she had called home.

And she would never let herself fall to that kind of pain again. She approached the window, placing a hand gingerly on the glass. Lightning skipped over the panes, marking it indefinitely but she didn't care. She had come to Daja's home after her year away, in locked silence. It had hurt to even _think_ of those she had left behind, let alone what she would have done for them.

Just to be normal, she thought.

_How stupid I was to think that they would let me be normal, when I am anything but_.

She felt the emptiness of her words reverberate across the hollow of her closed bonds, the feel of it making her heart ache. She didn't dare let her loved ones know just what she…how she had almost…

Her fists clenched at her sides as lightning crackled across them. Is this what Briar had felt when he had left them closed off for those months after he had returned from Gyongxe? All those months as he kept the deepest recesses of his mind locked in shadows and behind closed doors? Had he wanted to share anything with them or did he still keep the keys to the door clenched tightly in his fists, unable to let anyone else in?

She understood all too well now, how much it hurt to think that if she opened up her bond everything would spill out between them, baring the pain of her stupidity. But she also knew how much it _hurt_ that she kept them locked out.

She was just waiting for the day when she couldn't keep it all locked away.

**_The 3__rd__ day of Mead Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Number 6 Cheeseman Street_**

She would never admit that a change of scenery was just what she was looking forward to. Daja was diplomatic enough to not mention how fast she had managed to get all of her clothes packed into the two trunks that they were meant for. And Briar thought he was sneaking smiles behind her back as he managed to keep his hands full of her books; packing them into any open suitcase and trunk available. Sandry, though, was not subtle at all. She seemed to think that projecting her voice louder would get the point across better.

"You wanted my things packed? That's what I'm doing." She turned to take the books out of Briar's hands, the blossom's blooming bright shades of purple, blue and yellow as her fingers grazed over his. They didn't go unnoticed but she avoided looking his eyes as she neatly placed the volumes, _The History of the Stars, Vol. 1 _and _Challenging Nature: A Path to Death_, into the trunk she had designated specifically for her books. She stood up, hands on her hips and studied the trunk. It was already becoming full and she had plenty more books to take with her.

"You said to pack _everything_?" Sandry's smile neither comforted nor assured her of this move they were making. None of them had bothered to tell her where they were going; only that it was a surprise she was going to love.

She couldn't be sure of that. She wasn't much on surprises, seeing as nothing could surprise her. And she had had her fair share of surprises at Lightsbridge that had done her not one ounce of good.

"It's going to be wonderful, I tell you. Absolutely wonderful. And for that you need to bring _everything_ with." Sandry's smile widened further as _her_ anxiety ballooned. What if she didn't like this surprise? What if her sister was wrong?

She stiffened in response to her own weakness. When had she become so weak? When had she become a whimpering child who feared the dark?

"I killed pirates when I was 12," she whispered under breath ferociously.

"What was that?" Daja asked, her brow furrowed.

"I said if you say so. But I'm going to need another trunk," she looked around at the books still littering her room. "Or two," she muttered. Her eyes found Briar's and he held her gaze. His look of concern told her that he must have heard what she had really said. She turned away quickly, finding Sandry's instead.

"Well. Do you have a spare trunk I can use or not? Otherwise I won't be going to see this surprise of yours." Sandry smiled delightedly and pulled Tris along by the hand, tentatively, toward her rooms.

**_The 4__th__ day of Mead Moon, 1044 K.F.  
><em>_Along the cliff of the Pebbled Sea_**

A surprise, they had said. She could laugh at their casual use of the word 'surprise.' This was life-changing. She would love it, they had said. There were no words as to describe how she was feeling.

What she was looking at was a three-story tower, rebuilt to its former glory. From it extended a stone wall, one story tall, looking as if it could keep out the entire world. Adorned across the top of it she could catch just the barest glimpses of red and green. Something told her that beyond the wall Briar had made that place his own. And from there her eyes found a barn, a whicker following on the wind.

Followed by a bark and the soft pound of feet on the ground. Little Bear came dashing out of the barn, tail tucked between his legs. He was followed by a brown horse with white spots that beat at the ground and nickered softly, in victory. Bear found his way behind Tris' pony and peeked out from behind its legs, giving a bark of indignation.

And she laughed.

She laughed like she had not in many weeks. She felt tears slide down her face as too many emotions began to overtake her, her laughing turning to half-choked sobs and she knew that her foster-siblings were sure to be staring at her. She felt the tug of someone at her bond, silky blue and soft, caressing her like a mother's warm embrace.

But she couldn't bear to let them see her like this and she knew that she wouldn't be able to answer any of their questions.

And so she ran.

**_A Mile down the Cliff_**

This time, she let it all go. She let everything wash over her like the rains of a summer storm. She couldn't explain to anyone who didn't have weather magic what it was, but the winds always seemed drawn to her. And it wasn't any different now. They swirled about her, whirling her up in a cocoon of winds, the effect close to that of a small tornado. She spread her arms wide, her braids whipping her in the face and across the neck. Her dress kicked up around her knees and she was sure in that moment that her mother would be three shades of red in embarrassment at how indecent she was acting.

"I can't be what anyone wants me to be," she shouted into the swirling vortex that surrounded her, making her feel a little more like home as they swallowed up the words she could hardly believe she had uttered.

She couldn't hear anything else on the winds over the roar of their power. She couldn't see the pictures they brought with them, just blurs of color as they flew by. She was drowning. She was drowning in her own sorrow and she didn't know how to swim back to the surface and breathe again.

She looked down, the water crashing against the rocks. It was so far away and it looked so soft and gentle the way they jumped up and out of the water. She wanted to be one of those waves. To fling her whole body against those rocks, to feel something other than this sadness.

"I would never survive as a battle mage," she said darkly, hoping that the winds would carry them far, far away. So that no one would have to know just what she had done.

"A good thing too. Or else I'd have to clobber you over the head silly." She spun on her heels, the winds dispersing to their proper channels. Daja stood there, her hand on her staff. She looked as solid as the ground beneath her, like nothing could ever shake her. She felt a tremble begin along her spine and she fought hard to control it.

"How long have you been there?" Daja didn't move, not one twitch of a muscle.

"Long enough," she spoke after a long pause, her teeth flashing white the only indication that her lips had moved. Tris released a breath she didn't know she was holding and didn't think she could stand to look Daja in the eyes after what she had just said. How much would she take from that one phrase? How was she to explain it all, when she wasn't even ready to face it herself?

"Did they want that from you, at Lightsbridge?" Daja asked, steadily. "Did they want you to be a battle mage?" Tris choked on the last two words, couldn't find the way to breathe, even though she had just said them herself. Leave it to Daja to strike as fast and hard as one of her hammers.

"I-" But she couldn't bring herself to speak, couldn't breathe. The wind circled her again and she was suffocating. She took a step backwards as Daja's eyes flashed in warning.

"Tris, what are you doing?" She took a step forward. But she couldn't give Daja what she wanted, couldn't find the way to speak. Lightning crackled across her skin as she stepped backwards off the edge, her arms spread wide as the sky opened up wide above her.

And suddenly she was free, free of everything, nothing holding her down. She was falling.

_-Tris!-_

_-Ah! Tris!-_

She pushed their voices carried by the winds away as she continued to free fall, the sky getting smaller, the sea below getting louder and-

Whack! She collided with something behind her, something soft enough but hard enough to knock the very air that she had been trying to catch right out of her. Her hands flew to her neck and she panicked for the briefest of moments, before she realized that all she had to do was relax, all her body had to do was relax and the air would come right back to her.

And so it did. She started to breathe right away and as she stared up at the sky, the swirling colors of blue and white, mixed with the faintest hint of green, she felt infinitely better. Like she had had the very pain inside of her knocked out.

"How foolish I have been," she muttered, as a few tears fell from her face. She turned to her side and found that she had smacked right into a bed of vines that had sprung from the cliff side and had been braided together to form a netting. She ran her fingers through the thick greenery and felt the green fire course across her fingers. Briar, she thought. And Sandry.

"Tris." There was a pause, as Sandry's voice carried down in an echo. "Tris are you down there?" There was concern in those words this time. "Tris answer me!" She shouted down, this time the echo bouncing off the walls and disappearing into the crash of the waves.

"I'm fine," she whispered on the tendril of a wind and sent it up to her friends.

"I'll be fine," she said, more to herself than anyone.

**_On the Cliff_**

"What were you _thinking?_" Sandry was crying and the handkerchief in her hand ruined the effect Tris was sure she was hoping for. Her nose was cherry red, eyes swollen and she paced back and forth. They still hadn't left the spot on the cliff where she had taken her leap. A leap they had all misjudged.

"I needed to get away," she responded.

"And jumping off the cliff is how you do that?" Her voice rose so far above the crash of the waves, she almost flinched. Briar still hadn't looked at her yet and Daja's mouth was set in a grim line.

"I thought you were-that you had just-" But instead of finishing what no one wanted her to, Sandry just flung herself at Tris and wrapped her arms tight around her neck, squeezing so tight Tris thought she might never let go.

She wanted to push Sandry away, to escape what could come next. She wasn't sure when she would be ready to talk about it, about what had happened there.

But her body held onto Sandry's comfort and she wrapped her own arms around the small shoulders that seemed to radiate more strength than she had ever known.

"I would have caught myself," she whispered into her sister's shoulder. Sandry squeezed her tighter, a sob racking her small sister's body. She looked up to find Daja's eyes on her, relief apparent in the set of her body.

"I didn't mean to make you worry," she said. "I had planned to use the winds-" But before she could finish Briar spun around heatedly on his heels and stormed off toward his horse, mounted it and rode away at a very fast pace.

She bit her lip. Briar was never one to judge, not ever with her. This was a first. She felt her cheeks burn in shame.

"His face went very white when you went over the edge," Sandry commented softly. "We don't know what you're thinking anymore. If you don't let us in and you go and do something like that," Sandry paused, looking for the right words to say.

"Then you need to stop making foolish choices. Like jumping off cliffs when we have no idea that you were going to catch yourself with the winds or a sheet of lightning or soften the blow with a wave of water. Honestly Tris. We _love _you." Daja's words hammered home. "And we care about you. All we want is to help you, to listen to you. To help you get through this." Daja reached out and took hold of her hand, her warmth much deeper and hotter. It spread throughout her body, right down to her core. Even though she had not opened her bond, this almost felt like she was connected on that level.

"But you have to meet us halfway." Sandry nodded and took her other hand, her warmth soft and loving.

"Briar will come around."

But something about the way his bond felt distant and cold, didn't make her feel so optimistic.

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness. <strong>

**A/N:** Wow! So I finished. Took me a while again, I know. But I finally went to Tris and I didn't want to do her part wrong, but I wanted to do it how I wanted to. You don't like it, I don't care. It's not like telling me is going to change anything, haha. See you next time!


	6. Chapter 5

**EM:** A Circle story from my heart. Thank you so much to **Brightstar222010 **for your review. I don't get many reviewers and when I get one like yours I really have to take a step back because it can go straight to my head. And thank you to **Queen Hippolyta**. It's good to hear I have you interested. I can't thank you both enough for taking the time to read this. I hope that I won't be disappointing you in the future. And to all of you who have returned and keep on reviewing, thank you so much. You keep me going, truly. Even just one review for just that one chapter lets me know that someone is reading. And that is all I could wish for.

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

**Rating**: This chapter is **Rated M**.

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><p><span>Chapter 5<span>

_**The 4th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>Along the Cliff of the Pebbled of the Sea<br>In the Garden**_

There was a moment, when he felt the bond connect, so violently that he was almost knocked over by it. A whirlwind of emotions slammed into him twisting him up and drowning out everything inside of him. It was

_-pain-_

That scorched his skin and

_-sadness-_

That strangled him of every of every breath he tried to take and

_ -darkness-_

That swallowed up every fragment of his soul.

And then it had been severed, just as he had seen an image of her falling gracefully over the edge, her copper curls flapping frantically against the current of the wind.

He had screamed her name across the bond that he knew instantly had been open just moments ago but felt it echo back to him as Sandry's voice did the same. They didn't need to communicate to know what to do. They both threw out their power, crossing the space between them in the blink of an eye. He pushed the vines and the roots beneath the surface of the earth so fast they shot out of the ground faster than he had anticipated causing them to break. But Sandry was there with him and threaded them together, making them strong again. He weaved his magic in with hers and just as they reached each other they felt the impact of her body against their magical net.

And when he felt her hand brush over the vines that he was still magically entwined with, he felt the air burst from his lungs, his chest heaving fiercely. Only when he looked down did he notice that his hands were shaking and the flowers across them were wriggling in a manic dance.

_She almost – she could have – _

He shook his head hard as he dug his nails into the palms of his hands, drawing blood, trying to dispel the feeling of loss that had settled deep in the pit of his stomach. The plants around him spring to life, extending their stems as far as they could to reach out to him.

He should never have come here.

But that hadn't been his first thought when he had ran head first through the doors though. His first thought had been to get away from the side of that cliff as fast as he could, away from those storm-grey eyes filled with a pain he was beginning to recognize and get to some place that felt like home.

And this felt like home.

_Why would she do that?_

That single thought kept echoing back to him as he paced back and forth, the grass beneath his bare feet soft and thick, tickling him. With each step he took, more greenery sprouted up beneath him, his magic flaring out unchecked. Vines reached out to comfort him, leaves fluttered over his skin as he passed the new tree he had just planted earlier that week. He could tell that this one liked him more than it should have. It had taken a particular liking to him when he had walked through a bag's courtyard. When he tried to leave, it wouldn't let him. It was as if he had rescued a lonely dam. So he took her home with him.

He hadn't thought it was necessary to tell the bag.

And now it was giving him the same feeling that any woman who had wanted to comfort him had; it wanted to embrace him, to pull him into the comfort of its branches.

"You're sweet, but a little young for me," he whispered softly, a small smile gracing his features. But the image of Tris disappearing over the edge of that cliff sent anger rippling up his spine once again, anger and something else that he couldn't put a name to. The branches shook but continued to wrap extensively up his arms, until he chuckled at her determination. He pushed against her softly with his magic, thanking her.

She was a young tree; he had no doubt about that. But she would grow to be tall and strong and she would outlive him by many, many years. Its trunk was small now but he had given her a good place in the garden, and a hole deep enough for her to extend out and dig her roots deep. He had told her this would be home. And now she was extending that same gift, opening up her arms. He sat down at her base, back resting against her trunk and closed his eyes.

He didn't like to show favorites, but something about this tree had changed that. Even his _shakkan_ was beginning to grow jealous.

But he liked to let it know it was loved, more so than most.

_Just like Tris. _

But she never responded like this young, little tree here. No, she had to throw herself off a cliff and leave him to wonder if she had planned that like she said or if it was…

He grit his teeth in frustration. He felt his garden shiver in response.

"And you'll promise not to do it again?" Sandry's voice thick with concern came over the wall.

_Yes, have her promise a blood oath. That'll keep better than just her word. _

He heard a small gasp come over the wall and he rubbed his eyes wearily. Sandry must have heard him through their bond. A slip-up, one that he shouldn't have let happen.

"What is the matter with you?" Tris' voice came over next, slightly exasperated, though she had no reason to be. She was the one who had _jumped off a cliff_.

"Nothing," she replied hastily. "Just promise you won't do it again. Promise you'll talk to us," and this time he heard the plea behind that and he wondered, not for the first time, how Sandry managed not to take over their lives completely or to have one of her own.

"She doesn't," he muttered to no one in particular, caressing the leaves of a white flower.

"I won't do it again," Tris said solemnly. "Without telling you first," she added quietly after.

"Tris, this isn't up for debate. You can't do that again. You scared us to death with that…_that_. You just can't." He had no doubt that that was going to go over well. Leave it to Daj' to set the rules. Though Sandry was their mother hen, Daja was more of a father than he would ever be.

"You can't tell me what I can and cannot do. You of all people can't." Why did she have to jump off of a cliff? Why did she have to look as if she was _giving up_?

He clamped down quickly on the bonds he shared with his mates, closing off anything and everything. The quake started at the base of his spine and brought with it the memories, the _nightmares_ that he knew were burned forever on the backs of his eyes.

"_Get up Lahana!" He pulled at her arm, but his fingers slipped. There was so much blood, everywhere. Every time he tried to take hold of her, he would lose his grip, his fingers slipping in a trail of crimson. Why? Why didn't she get up? Why did she sit there, while the chaos around them erupted? The soldiers were moving too fast, their footsteps getting louder in his ears. _

"_Come on boy. We have to go." But he couldn't leave her. He found his teacher's eyes, steady and calm, beneath a bloody, sweat filled face. _

"_I can't leave her Rosethorn." He turned to Lahana once more and took her hands this time, finding them limp. Her eyes held none of the warmth he once found made his heart warm. _

"_Hana," he cupped her face and she didn't respond. His heart went dead in his chest and his eyes burned. It wasn't from the smoke. _

"_We have to go Hana," he said forcefully, "now." There was a flicker of movement and her eyes finally met his. There was a brief glimmer of hope, a moment when he thought that they would all make it away from this. And then she smiled; a sad little thing that loosed his tears. _

"_I can't," she croaked. _

"_Come __**on**__ Briar," Evvy whispered fiercely, the fear thick behind it. _

"Come on Tris," said Sandry heatedly. "How can you expect us not to ask?"

"Because they're my choices Sandry!"

"_Because I can't my green friend," she whispered. _

"_There's no more time boy. We have to go now," and Rosethorn grabbed his arm so tight, he was sure that she was breaking bone. _

"_Hana! Get up!" He called out to her once more, even as Rosethorn dragged him away, even though the soldiers had probably heard him. And Hana sat there, looking as if she had nothing to fear. Surrounded by bodies, the soldiers closing in, her face and arms covered in blood; hers and someone else's. She just continued to sit there. _

_A soldier finally reached her and swung his sword wide, a silver arc coming down across the small tender line of pink flesh that was her neck. Rosethorn pulled him away quickly behind an outbuilding where Evvy was waiting for them, shaking. But not in time for him to miss the splash of red that seared across his vision, brightening her face._

_Hana had been smiling. _

He choked once, before he caught himself. It had been some time since he had had a flashback. Since he had thought of _her_. And of how he hadn't been able to save her.

But he couldn't lose himself to the emotions. Not when the girls were so close.

"Briar?" His head jerked up and his eyes found gray ones, shocked wide. He realized after a moment, that his face was wet and that the tree that he was resting against had wrapped itself around him, bending at an angle that should not have been possible.

"Is everything al-" He pushed the tree away forcefully, apologizing as he did and rose on unsteady feet, his head still swimming with fresh memories of Hana.

"No," he spat out more vehemently than he may have intended but his pride wouldn't allow him to take it back. This was more or less her fault. She had brought on this onslaught of painful memories.

_Why would she do that?_

She took a step back, possibly seeing in his face that he was hurt. Her face turned shameful as she ducked her eyes, her hands wringing before her.

"I'll promise not to do it again, if that's what-"

"It's not about that!" He yelled back, not letting her finish. All he could see was Hana smiling, Hana accepting her fate. Hana giving up.

Hana dying.

_Tris_ giving up.

"You're giving up!" His voice sounded louder outside of his head, shakier than he had intended it to, but he couldn't stop it now. Not with the way his emotions were fluctuating. He needed to say his two-bits and get out.

Tris' face told him otherwise. He bit back a curse to Lakik, decided against it and took two steps for the gate leading out.

"I'm giving up?" He turned to face her as a wind lashed him across the cheek. So much for getting out.

"How am I giving up, Briar?" Her hands fell to her hips, a familiar look that he had missed seeing for over a year now. One that he knew was a part of the old Tris. But this still wasn't the Tris that he knew. Not his Coppercurls.

"You _jumped_ off a cliff. Do you know what I saw? Do you know what I thought when I saw you take that step over the edge?" They were nose to nose now, her chin tilting up to meet his. A defiant look that he had missed as well.

"I would have caught myself," she said softly, eyes looking downward for the briefest of moments. He caught her shoulders roughly, shaking her.

"I thought you had jumped to end it!" She opened her mouth to say something more but he didn't let her finish.

"You've been gone for a year, away to a school that's for bleaters for a magic that you don't even need! And when you come back, you're so broken, so sad that you can't even talk to us. You can't tell us what happened!" He stops yelling, to catch his breath, to compose his thoughts but he doesn't let her talk because he needs to say it all. "And then Sandry built this ridiculous house for us and as soon as you show up, you jump off a cliff! You've had yourself locked up in Daja's house since you got back, talking to no one, listening to nothing. You're wasting away, when all we do is lo-"

She shoves him away, anger hot in her eyes now.

"You want to talk about giving up?" She yells back, "You want to talk about closing myself off?" He could see he had opened up a box, one that had been locked up tight for far too long. His chest suddenly hurt.

"What are you really doing when you're off bedding those women?" She takes a step toward him, eyebrows raised expectantly. Lightning suddenly sparks between her fingers.

"Tell me what just happened here in the garden? Tell me why you were crying?" She took another step forward. She laughs harshly, tears springing to her eyes as the silence echoes between them. And he realizes that just as he cannot tell her, she cannot tell him.

"That's what I thought." She jabs him in the chest harshly and something inside of him crumbles. "Don't sit here and talk to me about opening up and jumping off cliffs, when all you do is close yourself off to us and throw yourself at other women!" She's crying now, so hard he's afraid she's going to start a rainstorm just with her own tears.

"You tell me you're right here? Well so are we Briar!" And it's as if she can't hold herself up anymore and she collapses to the ground, her face buried in her hands. "So am I!" She chokes out as her shoulders shake violently, sobs breaking his heart. He reaches out to touch her but it's as if she knows exactly what he intends.

"Don't!" And she smacks his hand away, the pain of it jolting straight through his heart. "Just, don't."

And this time he doesn't stay. He doesn't try to help.

He just runs.

_**The 4th night of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>The streets of Summersea<br>Emelan**_

He runs right into the arms of the soul-healer. She doesn't ask him questions, doesn't ask him why his face is blotchy. She doesn't ask him why he must look like he just had his heart ripped out of his chest. When he finds her walking home and pushes her up against the wall, she fights at first, until she realizes it is him. And when she does, she knows what it is that he seeks.

She caresses his face, softly, and then he kisses her roughly. He doesn't want to wait, to let the sight of Tris, kneeling on the ground, still broken, to consume him. His hands fumble with her collar, finding the skin of her neck. He needs to be next to her, to lose himself in her, to forget.

"Briar…" She pants and he grips her around the waist pulling her up against him. She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls his lips back to hers. Her hands work at his shirt, pulling it loose from his breeches, her hands running over his stomach. He can't _breathe_.

"Let's go," If she notices that he stops, too long in his ministrations, she says nothing of it. She drops to the ground, her shirt hanging open in the lamplight. Her chest heaves heavily, her breasts moving with the motion. He should notice that more, he should want her.

But he can only think of-

_A flash of powder blue and copper tumbling-_

She tugs him down an alley, through someone else's courtyard and then they reach her shop. She unlocks the door with an ease that should make him wonder but he doesn't ponder the thought, doesn't care.

They pass the front, through the back and then he's being pushed to the bed and she's falling down on top on him. Her lips find his-

"_-bedding those women-"_

She's pulling off his shirt, kissing down his chest-

"_I can't-"_

He catches her chestnut hair in his fingers and pulls her face back to his-

"_-tell me why you were crying-"_

Her dress falls to the floor and she moans, so softly as their bodies touch.

"_-I can't my green friend-"_

His body connects with hers and there is no feeling, nothing but regret.

"_-you're right here Briar? Well so are we!"_

Regret and the wish that it would all just disappear.

"_So am I."_

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness.<strong>


	7. Chapter 6

**EM**: A Circle story from my heart. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, again! You guys just keep coming back and giving me the boost that I love to hear. It has been a while since I've stayed so long with a story and you guys help me stay with it, with your words of encouragement and awesomeness. I love writing this and I love that you love it. Thank you so much for your awesomeness!

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 6<span>

_**The 5th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>The House along the Cliff<br>In the Kitchen**_

He left. And then he hadn't come home.

And she could only guess that Tris knew because there was a fresh pot of tea sitting on the counter and the door to what was Briar's unfinished room, left wide open. The room, cold and bereft. The bed not slept in.

"She's out by the cliff again." She turned to find Sandry standing behind her wrapped in an ivory colored robe, her two braids unkempt from sleep. She looked worn out. Perhaps she too had been up half the night, exposed to the angry, devastated and emotionally raw bond that was Tris.

"Something tells me none of us slept well last night." Sandry rubbed her face, her shoulders slumping uncharacteristically of her. She moved to the counter where she took hold of a forgotten teacup.

"Either moving to the side of a cliff was an extremely good idea," she paused to contemplate her idea and the cup in her hand, a small blue china cup decorated with gold flowers and trim, "or a very bad one." The sigh that left her sister was heavy and left Daja feeling uneasy.

"I couldn't push it away," she resigned as she turned the teacup over in her hand, rubbing the chip in the rim. It was stained from overuse, a sign of favoritism.

"She spent all that time pushing us away and then it's like, like an avalanche that has no end in sight that just kept pounding on us until only defeat was left." She sat down in the chair before her and massaged her temples.

"And I couldn't comprehend any of what I was feeling or seeing or hearing." Her eyes closed and her shoulders dropped.

She reached out and took hold of Sandry's arm.

"Perhaps this is a good thing, _saati_."

She snorted and Daja couldn't help the way her brow arched at that. "You're going to tell me that us fighting _again_ – again, Daja, is a good thing?" Sandry was exasperated, she could tell. But behind that was the pain of her family being torn apart from the inside. And no way to fix it in sight. She couldn't tell if any of this was going to be for better or worse but how were they to know?

"I can tell you nothing Sandrilene fa Toren, sister of my heart," and Sandry's shoulders gave just a little, a smile attempting to grace her features.

"And Tris is the only one of us who can scry." She took hold of both her hands and squeezed them hard, noting how rough they had gotten. "But as long as we breathe and as long as we try," and Sandry's eyes welled up with tears, "nothing will stop us from being family." Her hands gripped back tightly and Daja smiled.

"We will always be family no matter where we go or where we end up." But the tears spilled over and she pulled away.

"But why are they always fighting Daja?" She stood up and started pacing across the kitchen, the teacup left forgotten at the table. "I feel like I'm always trying but they never are." Frustration crept into her voice, anger not far behind.

"Briar survived a war that we know nothing about, _nothing_ Daja. And that he refuses to talk to anyone about. Anyone!" Daja could feel the material of her clothes quiver in response to Sandry's boiling anger. "And Tris comes home after a year that we heard nothing about and she's lost and broken, dead inside!"

"Sandry-"

Her hands wave around frantically, matching her emotional state. "No! It's unfair Daja! I try and try to be the one they can come to and I am always making the situation the best it can be for them," and her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, "and I can't take it anymore! I spent all night being bombarded by emotions that I can barely handle and that she won't even talk to us about! I am upset and I am exhausted and for once all I want is for my brother and sister to just," and she paused for a moment, to catch her breath and feelings.

Daja felt the air stop in her throat. "I would just like them to trust me," she said in soft defeat. And suddenly Daja felt the impact of it all. "Because they never seem to be able to."

And for the first time she didn't know what to do for her _saati_.

_**The 5th day of Mead  
>The Cliff<strong>_

"She's leaving Tris."

But she didn't turn around. Not at the anger in her voice. Not at the accusation that dripped from every word. She just stood there, looking out at the sea as if it would give her exactly what she needed.

"What happened at Lightsbridge that you can't talk about?" No response, nothing but the wind in her skirts.

"The sea has no answers for you Tris. It never will." And for some reason _that_ provoked a response from her.

"It's not my fault that she's leaving Daja." Her words strengthened the flame of anger within her.

"Why don't you ever talk to her?" Tris turned to face her, her eyes bloodshot and her skin white as death.

"I can't," she whispered, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

"Why not!" Tris flinched. Daja could not recall a time when she had yelled at her sister like that. But she could not, would not take it back.

"If Sandry goes, I go," and the stricken look that fell across Tris' face pierced Daja's heart. But she was beginning to see that some things were best treated alone. And she would not stay here when Tris did not want her to.

"I'm not going to stay when you don't want me to." As her eyes fell, Daja knew that she was right. Solitude had always been Tris' one place of peace. Maybe there she would be able to find what she was looking for.

"We'll be staying with Duke Vedris for a time." Tris turned away from her, eyes cast again toward the sea. Daja tried once more to see if her bond was open but she was met by the strength of hurricane winds. She didn't want anyone near her mind.

"If you should have need of us, Tris, for anything, do not hesitate to call." She nodded but still would not look at her. She reached out and put a hand on her sister's shoulder tentatively. It shook softly and a niggling of doubt drifted through Daja.

"Tris?" But she shrugged her off.

"Sandry needs you now. Take her home." Daja was about to protest that Tris could come with them as well. But she could feel it in the way her eyes never left the sea line or the way her feet never turned away from the edge. Tris would not leave until she was ready, would not talk to them until she felt that she could.

Until she could trust in _herself_.

And then realization hit her square in the chest. These feelings of mistrust and doubt were pointed at herself. Whatever she had done, whatever had happened at Lightsbridge had placed uncertainty within her sister. And that she didn't like.

She reached forward with a new understanding and took her sisters hand in hers. Tris flinched. Daja pushed on. "I expect you to have this place ready for the four of us to live in proper. Including that nest of his." Tris' hand jerked at the mention of Briar's room and Daja gripped it harder.

"Make it _our_ home." Daja didn't wait for a response. She left Tris to her cliff and returned to Sandry.

_**Along the Cliff of the Pebbled Sea  
>The Road to the Duke's<strong>_

"Are you sure she'll be okay by herself?" She couldn't help but smile. She was the one who wanted to leave yet here she was worrying over Tris as they left her behind.

"I told her we were leaving Sandry. She knows." The look on Sandry's face told her that even if she did know she still was unsure about leaving. "If she needs us Sandry, she'll call for us."

"Will she?" And there was the doubt that she knew hurt Sandry the deepest. The unknown possibility that Tris may or may not reach out to them if she needed them.

"We're just going to have to trust that she'll be okay without us. That this is what's best for both her and us." Sandry nodded, thoughtfully, but the worry still graced her features.

"It's good to see that you never stop caring _saati_." Sandry smiled softly. "Tris knows that you will always be there for her. She just needs to figure out how to be there for herself."

Daja knew that Sandry would worry. And it wasn't that she didn't. But Tris needed the time to heal on her own, in a place that would feel as close to home as it could. And while Daja knew that all Sandry did was love her sister, she also knew that Tris sometimes felt overwhelmed by Sandry's affection and care. It would do them both good to have time to themselves yet be close enough to go to the other's side if they needed it.

"Besides, Briar is sure to return when he's ready." She nodded solemnly in agreement.

"Sometimes, it bothers me that they're so close," she said quietly. Her brow furrowed and her horse pranced in irritation at her sudden tension.

"Why? You and I are closer than I would be with either Tris or Briar. I think it stands to reason that they are closer to each other than to either of us."

But her hands gripped the reigns tighter and her horse bristled with the contact. She loosened her grip immediately when she felt the horse shift beneath her but her face did not relax nor did her shoulders release their tension either.

"They're both like boom-stones flying through the air. I don't know where they're going to land or if they'll suddenly explode in the sky."

Sandry's comparison brought up painful memories for Daja and took her to a time when things had seemed simpler for them, younger. When the path to right and wrong was as easy as going left or right and didn't include a spiral path that led to a third road.

"Why are you so worried over this Sandry?" she said softly.

She didn't answer right away and her hesitation made Daja anxious.

"Because I feel like I can't help them. That if I get too close, I'll be caught in the explosion and I won't survive it." That did not sound good to Daja. She didn't believe that Sandry would ever give up on her siblings but…that wasn't to say that if Tris kept pushing her away she wouldn't eventually respect that decision. There was only so much that Sandry could take.

"They won't always be like that Sandry. They're strong, you know that. It's just going to take longer than we want it to for them to come around." She reached across their bond and squeezed it, like she would her hand. "And we'll have to be patient."

_As if we already aren't. _Daja smiled broadly.

_There's my _saati.

Sandry sighed gustily. "I guess I just…I just want something more from them. I want them to give back what I give to them. Is that so much to ask?" Daja thought about her request for a moment before answering.

"Yes and no. Because of who they are, it may be too much to ask _right now_. And I think you understand that more than you want to admit. But that doesn't mean you can't ask for things from them. _They _should understand that as well." Sandry was nodding in agreement now, her bond growing lighter with ease. Daja was beginning to feel a lightness as well in her chest now that Sandry was starting to show signs of feeling better.

"We're adults now Sandry. There are things that you can't fix between us." Sandry turned to Daja in the saddle and frowned. "But that doesn't mean you should stop _trying_. That's what I love about you." Sandry smiled widely. Daja could feel her bond glowing and smiled in return.

"Then we give them time," she said.

"Yes," Daja replied. "Time and the strength to say that they need us." Sandry giggled and urged her horse into a gallop. Daja could sense the change already working through her as well and was glad that they had taken this trip to the Duke's.

"As if they would ask us for help!" she shouted back at her and laughed. Daja spurred her horse into a gallop as well and joined her sister, a chuckle working its way out of her. The thought of either of them asking for help was silly indeed.

_**The Duke's Citadel  
>The Courtyard<strong>_

There were things she noticed about the Citadel. Like the guards and the captains. The servants and the handlers. The merchants and the smiths. The people here were always friendly and open to her, greeting her with smiles and eyes bright with good spirits. She felt like her smith magic didn't make her different here, even if they were just hiding how they felt about her.

Daja knew this was a result of the Duke's good ruling and how he cared for his people, whether commoner or noble.

But when they rode into the Citadel then, there was a feeling in the air that made the hairs on her arm stand up. When the handlers came to take her horse they were preoccupied and when she greeted them they barely glanced at her.

"Sandry–"

"I know. Something's not right." She handed her horse off and turned to find the captain or perhaps the Baron. She found the guard who she blushed over first.

"Wyan, what's going on?" Wyan, his face distant this time, turned to Sandry. He took a deep breath and Daja found that unsettling.

"Lady Sandrilene, you're back." His response was evasive and made Sandry bristle. She squared her shoulders and pushed her chin high.

"Where is my Uncle?" His face dropped, just barely, but he squared his shoulders also. "He's in his study, talking with Baron Erdogun. He has asked not to be disrupted." Sandry huffed and turned on her heel.

"I'm his niece. I think _I_ can see him all the same thank you." As Sandry stomped away quickly, Daja stayed behind.

"Wyan was it?" He turned to Daja this time, his face relaxing slightly.

"Yes?"

"Daja Kisubo, friend of Sandry's. She's had a rough morning, so I hope you'll excuse her." His shoulders dropped a little and his rigid posture fell.

"I know who you are, the smith mage –" She sputtered disgracefully. She found it embarrassing to be named by her mage title.

"Daja, please." He nodded.

"We weren't expected by the Duke this morning but this is unexpected. Did something happen?" Wyan looked as if he was having a heated debate about whether to tell her the news of what had happened. His face scrunched up in concern as if he wasn't going to tell her but then he decided against it.

"The Duke received a letter early this morning." She waited, impatiently. Who would it be from for everyone to be so stressed?

"It was from Frantsen." Daja was fairly certain she had heard that name somewhere before and that it didn't bode well at all.

Her confusion must have played across her face because Wyan continued.

"Frantsen, the Duke's eldest son." Daja's eyes widened.

"He's coming home."

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness. <strong>

**A/N**: It was very hard to write the last chapter. Briar and Tris fighting sets my teeth on edge. Wasn't sure how the end was going to affect everyone. Glad to be started with his flashbacks as well. This might be moving a tad slow but I don't want to push this too fast. Hope you enjoyed.

**Rose **was the month of June. Forgot to mention that.** Mead** is the month of July.

**Wyan** [Why-en]

See you next time!


	8. Chapter 7

**EM**: A Circle story from my heart. Something tells me that many of you may have been disappointed that Briar and Tris were not there last chapter, specifically Briar. **Lacking a better name**, **Queen Hippolyta**, you even told me flat out. But I can't be sorry. Sandry and Daja, pivotal plot movement, they all demanded time that I had to give. I believe that _this_ chapter will help to make up for some of that though. Thanks for reviewing again you guys! I love you all, more than I can ever say through these words. So I'll just keep writing this the best that I can for you.

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

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><p><span>Chapter 7<span>

_**The 5th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>The house of the Soul-Healer<br>Emelan**_

He woke up feeling more tired than he had the night before. And his head was swimming with the remains of a beaten bond. When he opened up his bond to his foster-sisters he groaned and rolled to his side, his arm falling over the warm, soft body of another human. He shut the bond closed again, tight, and opened his eyes slowly.

_Satira_.

He had slept through the night, his bond closed off, but still feeling the after-effects of what Tris must have put the girls through. And he had experienced no nightmares either. _This_ was the result of lying with women.

He could _sleep_.

Satira must have felt his arm over her because she snuggled into his chest, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. He stayed like that for a moment, until the sun shone directly in his face, the warmth of the light lifting his spirits just a little. But he didn't stay any longer after that. He withdrew his body slowly from Satira's, not waking her and dressed quickly. He pulled a vine to him through her window and used his magic to leave a message behind for her. Once the vine knew she had read the message it would return to its former position.

Taking one last glance at the sleeping soul-healer he slipped out the door and into the streets.

In the light of the sun the vines glimmered briefly with his magic.** Thank you. **

_**The Streets of Summersea  
>Emelan<strong>_

Once he hit the streets and the bustle of the morning merchants he quickly fell into pace and pushed away all thoughts of yesterday. The first thing he wanted was food. He reached into his tunic and pulled out the pouch Sandry had spelled for his hands only. He slipped out a few coppers and bought a warm sweet roll from a vendor, inhaling it. When he realized how hungry he was he bought another and then found a woman who was selling warm chocolate. He thanked her immensely and drank it slowly, savoring the sweet taste. The warm, thick liquid felt like happy tonic going down his throat and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. Perhaps it was too hot for the savory, warm liquid but in that moment nothing tasted better. And it made him feel better too.

"Get back here you thieving wench!" He turned in time to catch his shoulder on a girl running passed him, her long black hair shimmering in the early morning sunlight.

"Stop her, stop her!" He grabbed the girls arm out of instinct. But the moment she turned her face up to glare into his he released her. Her eyes, a clear crystal blue, grew confused.

"I'll have your hands for them apples girl, if I don't string you up first!" She was dressed poorly, her feet bare. She was not much younger than he was by the looks of her. He smirked. He hadn't forgotten his old ways, not by a long shot.

Briar Moss he may be, plant mage master and shakkan expert. But he never forgot Roach.

"Run faster, else the guards will be comin' next," he whispered and then pushed her off into the direction of an alley that he knew would take her in the opposite direction of trouble. She almost tripped, caught herself, and then turned to find his face once more in the crowd. She looked puzzled, her brows knit together tightly. She hugged the handful of apples closer to her chest and then took off down the alley, disappearing in the shadows.

"Where is she? Where is she boy?" He turned to the merchant, a look of profound confusion on his face. "Whatever do you mean, sir?"

The merchant huffed, turned left and then right, looked beyond Briar and then howled loudly. "I'll remember your face you little bratling!" he yelled into the nervous crowd of onlookers.

"And you!" he pointed at Briar, his chest heaving with exertion.

_Gold-grubbing merchants. _

"Simply incredible, isn't it?" Briar said, astonishment dripping from every word. The merchant let loose a string of words and stamped his foot. Briar chuckled. "Kids," he said shaking his head as he stooped to pick up a stray apple that must have fallen from the girl's basket. "You'd think they'd know better than to get **caught**." The merchant's mouth dropped open, his eyes wide in disbelief. And Briar smiled like he had just handed the man fifty gold majas, patted him on the shoulder and went on his way, whistling a tune that reminded him of his _own_ thieving days.

And he knew where he wanted to go next. He pocketed the apple and took off east in search of the stables.

_**Winding Circle Temple  
>Discipline Cottage<strong>_

"Glakisa, get that bear out of this garden before I hang you from the trellis!" He heard someone burst into a fit of giggles and then a herd of pounding feet coming closer towards him.

"Come on Bear, before the old plant lady makes us weed!" Glaki's voice rounded the corner as she followed it, Little Bear's huge, furry frame galloping close behind.

"I am _not_ old!" Rosethorn shouted back, laughter thick in her voice. "And I wouldn't let you near my plants, even to weed!" Glaki stopped short at the sight of Briar but Bear did not. He barked once in glee and rushed him, jumping up on his haunches, proceeding to lick any place that he could reach.

"For Mila's sake, Bear, _get down_," he commanded with mirth. He rubbed Bear's head affectionately and watched Glaki cautiously. It had been a few months since she had seen him, and he was unsure if she would remember him.

He should have known better. "It's your boy Rosie! It's the thorn-boy!" She laughed delightedly, clapping her hands and grabbed Briar by his, pulling him through the kitchen and out the back door into the gardens, Bear following close behind, barking and jumping.

"Thorn-boy?" he muttered questioningly, one brow arched high.

"By the Green Man. Glakisa Irakory, how many times do I have to tell you, that you are **not** allowed to call me Rosie?" Rosethorn was kneeling in the dirt, her head covered by a straw hat and she was weeding.

_It is summer. There's always weeding. _That thought alone, the most familiar thing, made everything seem as if it would all be alright. He knew that he could always come back here, to the summers of Discipline and know that weeding would always be here, waiting for him.

"I will not say it again, get that Bear-" and when she turned around, rubbing her cheek and inadvertently smudging dirt along it, her eyes finally landed on Briar. Her face broke out in a grin and she rose to her feet, bare and dirty.

"Boy," she growled out affectionately and pulled him towards her in a hug. It was brief but the contact alone was more than he had ever expected.

"It's your boy, Rosie. The thorny one you're always talking about." Briar's brow went up again as he turned to Rosethorn. She laughed, from deep within and Briar couldn't help but feel his heart pull. He hadn't heard her laugh like that in a _very_ long time.

"_Briar_, Glaki. His name is Briar. Only I call him boy. Just like only Lark can call me Rosie," she said sternly but Briar could see that the corners of her lips were upturned. When had this happened, he wondered. When had his teacher started to laugh like that again?

"Thorn-boy is an interesting name, Glaki. Did you know that roses have thorns?" She turned to him, eyes glimmering with curiosity and mischief. She pretended to think about it for a moment and then laughed, high and child-like.

"Of course I did," she said sweetly. "Rosethorn is always teaching me about plants. But anyone who has seen roses knows that they fight to keep their beauty." She smiled with an understanding that Briar had not realized that she possessed before. He reached forward, behind her ear and called out to the yellow flowered vine that was hanging behind her. It stretched into his palm and he pulled it forward. When she saw what he had, she squealed in joy as her eyes sparkled. She caressed the flower timidly and then jumped into Briar's arms, wrapping her own around his neck. She laughed helplessly.

"Tris was right about you," she said happily. He reached down with his other hand, placing it against her back, returning the hug.

"You're the sweetest man ever," she said softly. The vine retreated and he pulled Glaki into his arms. She squeezed him tight and then pushed back just a little, looking into his eyes, smiling. He pushed back a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"And what did Tris say about me exactly?" he inquired hesitantly. Thinking about Tris suddenly brought back images of her, the powder blue dress, tumbling braids, a cliff. He shook his head to dispel the thoughts. Glaki giggled.

"That no boy, or man, would ever be able to compare to you or the way you treated us girls." He froze, unable to move by the words that Glaki had just spoken. He couldn't breathe and his heart was suddenly a lead weight inside his chest.

_Guilt. _ He blanched in surprise. _I suddenly feel guilty._

He bristled and cleared his throat, the urge to go back home, to his now other home suddenly urgent. He pushed it away hurriedly.

_For all the yatter that she could have gone and said, this was what she chose? _

"Briar?" Glaki asked. He blinked out of his thoughts and found his teacher looking at him questioningly. He looked away, guilt and fear building inside him. He pulled away from Glaki and straightened his tunic. Rosethorn seemed to have sensed his sudden discomfort.

"Oh so you'll call him Briar now but still call me Rosie?"

"Of course Rosie," she chirped, easing out of the awkward situation she had yet to sense. Rosethorn nodded in the direction of the kitchen, sternly.

"Glaki, would you go start some tea for us please. I think the calming one would be nice." Briar eyed his teacher warily, but did not respond. He waited until Glaki was well into the house and moving about before he decided to address her.

"So, you let her into your storerooms?" Rosethorn snorted and went down on her knees again. She patted the space next to her and began pulling the weeds once more.

"I keep the ones we use most in the kitchen, if you don't remember. That girl would make a mess if I let her run about in my rooms." He sighed wistfully and fell down next to her, his hands finding weeds like moths to a flame. It was like he was a kid again, and the girls were just inside, coming home from their own lessons.

There was an easy silence that fell between them as the weeding became methodical. What he wouldn't have given in that moment to be twelve again, just trying to figure out which magics were his or what treat Dedicate Gorse would give him today.

It's the simple things you miss, he realized, when you grow up. You become an adult and it's like the whole world is a bleatin' mess but that's the way it always was, you're just finally seeing it now.

"What's on your mind, boy?" He turned to his teacher thoughtfully and watched as the tomatoes stretched towards her, leaning against their stakes and the blossoms turned their faces in her direction as if she were the sun. And people thought he had an effect on the green. The whole garden was leaning towards Rosethorn as if she was the center of the world.

_It's just…_

She stood there, a giant oak, waiting calmly and solidly next to him. He was always so sure of Rosethorn. The roots beneath his feet. The trunk holding his branches.

He sat back on his knees and clenched his fists. She kept pulling weeds.

_She just…I didn't know what she was doing-_

Rosethorn reached over and placed her hand gently over his.

_Slowly, now. Slowly. _He looked into her eyes and knew he would have to show her it all.

Images flashed between him and his teacher.

_Moments of silent filled rooms, and lightning tipped fingers. Her face empty one minute and flush-angry the next, for no reason that he could comprehend. Sandry, pushed to the edge, pushed to the ground. Chasing Tris to the forge, fighting without words. A bond, closed so tight, that he recognized for once just what he had done to the girls when he had come home last year. A trip filled with books and clothes and __**promise**__. The look on her face, filled with pain and sadness. But mostly loneliness. The flutter of her copper tresses as she galloped toward the edge of the cliff. The feel of betrayal, the hollow of fright that shook his very being as he watched through Daja's eyes as scattered images of copper, and powder blue, pale white, tumbled over the edge of the cliff to the-_

"Enough." He blinked rapidly and focused back on his teacher's brown eyes instead of grey ones. She reached forward and brushed his cheeks with her fingers, her hand coming away damp.

He turned away, shamed.

"Briar," she said gruffly, turning his face back to hers with her hands. "Why are you here?" Because he needed his teacher. Because he needed a place that was home, a place that he could feel safe in.

"I needed this." She shook his shoulders this time, gently.

"Why are you _**here**_, boy?" He wanted to throw his hands up in frustration. What did it matter? He couldn't stay there while Tris acted like it was okay for her to jump off cliffs and throw her weight around when she felt it was okay for her to do so. If she was going to live with them, with _him_, than she needed to understand that her life mattered more than just tossing it into the sea like a skipping pebble.

"I don't know!" he ground out furiously. She pulled him into the embrace of her arms, again, for the second time in one day and he didn't resist. He just put his head on her shoulder and breathed deeply, the scent of dirt and willow filling his nostrils.

_I don't know, Rosethorn. I'm just as messed up as she is, if not more. _

Rosethorn _tsk_ed and pulled him away. She watched him for a moment, searching his eyes carefully and then placed a hand on his heart.

"Why do you come _here_ Briar?" He thought about what pulled him to this place, especially whenever he was upset, angry or if the nightmares had come.

"It's the only place that I know won't hurt me," he answered softly. He watched as her eyes glowed with understanding.

He waited for her to share with him the answer but she waited. And then realization hit him square in the chest, beneath Rosethorn's palm. She must have seen his face.

_You have this place to come back to. You have me, to come back to. _

_But she can always come back here too, _he protested. Rosethorn shook her head.

_It's not the same for the girls as it is for you, boy. Niko isn't always around. _He sat on the ground and crossed his legs, her words starting to make more sense.

_She needs to feel safe boy. And she doesn't have that right now. _He looked up exasperated.

_But how can she not, when we were all right there for her, waiting for her to open up and let us in?_ She looked at him in reproach.

_And when we came home from the Emperor's war, did _you_ let anybody in?_ He looked away ashamed.

_You didn't trust the girls neither. Whatever Tris feels she can't trust you with right now, it's because she doesn't feel safe with _it_. You have to give her time, boy. _

He growled in the back of his throat and stood abruptly.

_Brain-bleating, rat-nosed, money-grubbing, milk-livered daftie's! Lakik take their teeth and sell'em for all their worth!_

Rosethorn's brow only rose.

"What did they do to her out there at that maggot-riddled school?" he yelled, pacing between his teacher and the tomatoes that leaned towards him every time he came near.

"I just want to…those _hamots_ out to-" Rosethorn stood as well and stopped him from finishing.

"It would be best not to finish that thought. Whatever happened to Tris at Lightsbridge is between you and her, should she decide to tell you. And if she does," she paralyzed him with her gaze, the one that told him he would be strung up by his toes above the well if he ever did anything wrong by her, "then you will treat her with the kindness and the patience that she needs."

His head dropped and he knew that he would have done so, even if Rosethorn had not said the words.

"Rosethorn? Are you still back there plucking your weeds?" Briar froze at the sound of that familiar voice. Rosethorn sighed inwardly.

"Evumeimei, the stones have already told you that she is. If you would merely _listen_ then there would be no reason to shout." There was a snort.

"I know Rosethorn likes the sound of my voice." This was followed by a patient sigh.

"Rosethorn likes many things, Evumeimei. You being quiet one of them." Evvy rounded the corner, Luvo strapped solidly to her chest. A smile broke out on her face when her eyes landed on Briar.

"Briar! The stones didn't mention you!" He smiled thinly, his thoughts still full of Tris and the words that his teacher had just given him.

"Yes they did. You just weren't paying attention to _all_ of what they had to say." She rolled her eyes and unstrapped Luvo, allowing him to approach Briar and Rosethorn on his own.

"Did you get everything?" Evvy came forward with a basket filled with herbs and plants.

"Of course I did. Else I wouldn't have come back," she said with a smirk. Rosethorn reached out and tweaked Evvy's nose, taking the basket in her hands. "You know, Glaki is sitting in the kitchen just staring out the window at you guys. Why doesn't she come out?"

Briar looked at Rosethorn, a true smile finally gracing his features. "She picked up Tris' politeness," and Evvy scowled.

"Evumeimei," Luvo warned.

"The redhead crackles with _lightning_, Luvo. It's a good thing I'm made of stone or my skin might wither." Rosethorn suspected it was to be a joke, but in his current state, Briar did not take it as such and the look that crossed his face was filled with both anger and sadness.

"Let's go inside and have that tea now. Mila bless us, Glaki's probably bouncing in her own skin as it is." Rosethorn headed into the kitchen and Luvo turned to follow, stopped when Evvy did not.

"Are you coming Evumeimei?" Evvy watched Briar in quiet concern.

"I'll be right there." Luvo seemed to accept this and headed for the kitchen as well. When everyone was gone she turned to Briar.

"Is everything alright? You know I don't mean it, bought Tris." She waited, her eyes searching his hesitantly.

Evvy reached out and grabbed ahold of his arm. "Briar-"

"_Briar! Run!"Evvy's face was streaked with dirt and blood, a bruise covering her left cheek. Her eyes were wide with fear and panic, something that had yet to go away. She gripped his arm tight and he couldn't tell where her quakes started and his ended. Smoke billowed through the temple making it hard to see any of the faces that pushed and prodded and struggled to get passed them. _

"_Where's Rosethorn, Evvy?" He turned to look for his teacher, her face lost amongst the civilians rushing for safety, tripping over the bodies of their neighbors, their friends. Their loved ones. He could smell the sharp tang of iron that signified too much death. _

_Evvy turned to look behind her and her hand clenched him tighter, eyes beginning to brim with tears. He could see the terror burning behind them. "She was right here, I know she was-"_

"Briar!" He jolted in his skin and sucked in a quick breath. Evvy wasn't holding his arm anymore but she was standing in front of him, eyes filled with worry. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his eyes and carded a hand through his hair.

_Winding Circle Temple. Discipline Cottage. Rosethorn and Evvy safe. Home. __**Not **__Gyongxe._

"Briar, are you-" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder fondly and steered her towards the kitchen.

"Quit you're boo-hooing. What am I, a witless kid crying out for his mama in the night?" He laughed, halfheartedly and Evvy did not miss the skirting around his sudden day-nightmare. But she wrapped an arm around Briar's waist and pulled him close, resting her head against him.

Some things, she had learned, you had to leave for others to take care of.

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness.<strong>

**A/N**: Whoa! So like, this is word record for me. Briar, Rosethorn, Glaki, Evvy, and Luvo too, just wouldn't shut it up. _Everyone_ had something to say. Hope ya'll like it. Glaki is nine btw. I gave her my own personality. See you next time!


	9. Chapter 8

**EM**: A Circle story from my heart. Thank you so much to everyone who has returned and reviewed again, especially to my newcomers **Trisana Artemis Cahill** and **LillithBB**. Your reviews mean a lot to me. I'd also like to thank everyone who has followed, alerted and favorited. There were a surprising number of you. It makes me get all warm and fuzzy inside when I read that. Anyway, thanks for coming back!

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

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><p><span>Chapter 8<span>

_**The 5th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>½ mile West of Summersea<br>The house along the cliff**_

She was alone.

_It's what I wanted, wasn't it?_

She looked around the kitchen at her abandoned teacup, Briar's door left ajar, the chairs empty and forgotten. The late afternoon sun shone through the window and instead of making her feel warm and welcome, only made her feel sad and lost.

_Isn't it?_

Her voice echoed across the closed bond.

The house was quiet. There was no one in the forge, the hammer's hailing or the rush of the bellows. No _thump_ of the loom or _shushshush_ of a spindle. And no whispers of sweet nothings to probe a spry shakkan to grow into its right shape or the whistling of a note-less tune.

There was only the wind against the building, running through the crevices, searching for an opening inside, only to fly beyond.

This time, she really was alone. Alone in a house that she knew nothing about. A house that wasn't hers. A house that carried nothing of her family in it. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, feeling a sudden ache in her chest, just below her ribs.

The harsh, splintering cry of a scream against glass turned her thoughts to the garden. She made for the back door and went out, her bare feet hitting warm, dry dirt and she turned her face to the sky.

Images cascaded over her vision and scattered words and voices flittered through her ears. She grit her teeth in frustration and pushed them away, lightning crackling at the tips of her twin braids.

There was another splintering cry from the sky. A flash of purple, blue and crimson caught her eye and she turned to find Chime, soaring through the open air, crystal body glittering in the sunlight. She let loose another cry and then she flapped her wings and shot forward. Tris looked in the direction she was flying and caught sight of a hawk, making wide circles.

"Chime!" Her voice didn't carry far, but she pushed it on further with the winds. The glass dragon cried out again, made one last dive for the hawk and circled back to Tris.

Watching Chime soar through the sky, she couldn't help but notice how perfectly blue it was today. Not a cloud to disturb the clarity of the wide open space. She pushed her bare toes into the dry dirt.

"_You sure do seem to like watching the sky." She didn't take her eyes off the sky, as a single puff of white drifted by. She couldn't believe how _clear_ it was today. Days like this made her wish she was back at home with her family and watching these skies from the thatched roof of Discipline. _

Chime came to a halt and landed on her shoulder, talons grasping her tightly, her forepaws gripping her tangle of braids for leverage. She did not wince.

"_Trisana?" She sighed and tore her gaze away, turning to her unwanted visitor. She _still_ couldn't get her to call her Tris. The girl's shiny black ringlets framed her face perfectly, not one out of place and her eyes, blue like the darkening sky, glimmered with questions. She felt a trickle of sweat fall down her brow and she pulled a small wind across her face, keeping it away from the alabaster one that scrutinized her. _

She walked further into the garden, her sights set on one particular tree.

"_Have _you_ ever looked at the sky, Ginea?" Ginea studied her closely for a moment and then turned her face upwards, shielding her eyes with her hand. Ginea peered at the blue expanse for a few moments and then looked back at Tris, her brow quirked. _

"_I don't really see what it's all about," she replied. Tris could feel the earth rumbling inside of her as the winds picked up in speed around her and Ginea. Ginea's brow furrowed suddenly as she turned about in confusion, her skirts flapping about her legs. _

"_Trisana?" She shouted over the whipping winds, her perfect ringlets coming undone. _

_But Tris wasn't watching Ginea and her face held no hint of concern for the situation. Her arms were fanned out to her sides and her braids, freed from her snood, were fluttering spastically in the wind, hitting her in the face. But she didn't care. She only knew that she hadn't used her power in so long and she hadn't felt the brush of the northern winds against her skin like this before and it was _glorious_. _

She had leaves the size of her palm, in the shapes of hearts. And Tris noticed now that she would fruit soon. Tris reached out to the tree, as if to touch her.

_The storm approached from over the lake to the east, and Tris wanted to climb the parapets and turn her face into the oncoming torrential rain. She had been waiting for this for _days_. _

She hadn't meant to refer to the tree as a she. She wasn't even sure if the tree was female, though Briar would insist that plants did have certain personalities that represented females or males more. But something about this one told her the tree was feminine. The long, slim branches held delicately out to the sides. The heart-shaped leaves that could be blown off the branch with just a mere wind. And the fine, ashen colored trunk that Tris knew would never grow beyond eighteen inches wide. Briar had brought a beauty into his garden.

And suddenly, she felt more out of place than she had ever felt before.

"_What are you doing, Trisana?" Ginea yelled at her, as she grasped Tris' skirts. Tris turned on her, shook her skirts loose from the girl's hand, and continued climbing onto the battlement. _

"_For the last time, Ginea. It's Tris." Tris pulled herself up into the niche and settled her feet into a steady position. Ginea yelled something to her from behind but she didn't bother to catch up the wind to hear it. _

"_You might want to go back inside, Ginea. It's about to get a little wet," she said, mirth heavy in her voice. She pushed the wind that carried her voice into Ginea's face and felt it snake back to her. _

"_You're crazier than a spirit-ridden bleater!" _

Tris flinched at the backlash of Ginea's words as they echoed across her memory. That girl would never know just how much she had truly hurt her, how deep she had cut. Of course, she didn't know just how penetrating her words would be, but it didn't matter. She could have been nicer about it.

She sighed wistfully. She had wanted to come out here, to Briar's place of sanctuary and maybe find some solace. Or maybe even…forgiveness.

She shook her head forcefully to dispel the idea. Her family would never forgive her if they knew she was asking for forgiveness for something that wasn't even her fault. Or what they would tell her wasn't her fault.

She cast her eyes to the sky again. Perhaps she could admit that her actions from the previous day had been…overly dramatic.

But how could she explain to all of them that in that moment, she had wanted nothing more than to be _free_? Free from the feelings of isolation and loneliness that she had put herself through when right there, her family had done nothing but hold her up.

She _was_ a fool.

She would never admit that out-loud. She may be one of the more intelligent mages in the world gifted with the most powerful ambient magic there was, but that didn't mean she wasn't the most foolish person ever.

She was a fool.

One who had turned away the very people who loved her beyond all reason and doubt. The people who would stay with her even when she was at her worst. She had done that to herself.

And so, she would have to live with her mistakes.

"Oh Chime," she said softly and petted the glass dragon. She nipped Tris' hand. Tris chuckled half-heartedly, as tears burned the corners of her eyes.

"_I expect you to have this place ready for the four of us to live in proper. Including that nest of his." _

Daja's voice permeated her thoughts, hammered at her feelings.

"_Make it _our _home." _

Tris rubbed her cheek against Chime and turned away from the tree. She sniffed once and pulled the sadness into a ball and wound it tight, casting it off into the distance of her heart.

For now, she would forget. For now, she would make good on Daja's request.

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness.<strong>

**A/N**: **Ginea** is pronounced Ji-nay-uh. Not very long, I know. But Tris had to come before the next chapter and she was short and sweet. We even get to see a brief glimpse of her at Lightsbridge. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up quicker than this one. Hopefully, I'll see you soon!


	10. Chapter 9

**EM**: A Circle story from my heart. Thank you to everyone who returned and reviewed! You guys are, like, freakin' awesome! I hope you continue to give me this support, even in my worst of days (hopefully this won't ever happen!). Thanks for dropping back in. I love you all so dearly!

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

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><p><span>Chapter 9<span>

_**The 5th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>The Duke's Citadel<br>The Sitting Room**_

_My dearest Father,_

_I shall skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point. I have spent much of my time away and believe it is time for me to come home. There will come a day, when the country will need me. And I miss your company, most greatly. With the turn of the season I shall set out immediately for Summersea. _

_In the hopes of rekindling our relationship. _

_Your son,_

_Frantsen_

She read it twice more, as the heat rose to her face each time. _In the hopes of rekindling our relationship._She wanted to rip it up into tiny little pieces and dash them into the flames of the candle but she held her composure. She knew her Uncle's son well enough that this letter wasn't _just _about coming home to patch up some father-son time. Frantsen, the oldest, the most devious, had something planned. And Sandry did not like it at all.

_When the country will need him. _Rubbish, she thought. The day her country needed a fool like Frantsen was the day she gave her hand to one of Berenene's little lap dogs.

And she shuddered to think that day would ever come.

Her Uncle sat at his desk, his hands folded before him. Yazmín stood behind him, her face pinched, her hands resting on his shoulders comfortingly.

_Perhaps I should go Sandry._

She shook her head no slightly and her eyes met the Baron's. His tight lips told Sandry he was thinking the same thing that she was; that this was not just a friendly letter from a son to a father.

"My love, perhaps," Vedris placed his hand over Yazmín's to stop her and shook his head. Yazmín's eyes found Sandry's and held them. She could see that Yazmín was worried about this new development and could tell that she knew what it would do to her Uncle's well-being.

For Frantsen was persistent, hot-headed and deceitful. And her Uncle didn't need that in his life.

"Uncle," Sandry said.

"I would like everyone to leave, please." Sandry felt the anxiety within her jump as she watched her Uncle rub his eyes tiredly. "Uncle," she said again but Vedris held up his hand to stop her.

"Sandrilene, my dear," he said and Sandry couldn't help but flinch at the use of her full name.

"I'm quite sure I have a good idea of what you have to say and I don't wish to hear it right now." Sandry felt her chest clench. She took a step forward, thought about saying something different, to defend herself and decided not to.

Tears stung her eyes and she whirled out of the room, her skirts fluttering behind her.

"Vedris, I don't believe that was the best -"

She brushed away the tears that cascaded down her cheeks as Yazmín's voice trailed after her down the hall.

_Sandry, wait._

_I don't wish to talk Daja. Please, just leave me to myself._

She felt Daja retreat from her mind as she flew through the halls of the Citadel, the walls and servants a blur. She heard the voices of the people around her but she didn't respond to them.

When she found herself in the garden's she stopped to breath at a bench set deep in the background. She supposed that it was meant to be romantic. Right now, she just felt useless.

She stood and paced. Why wouldn't her Uncle just hear her out? He was usually so willing to hear her ideas, whether he used them or not. But for him to outright deny her the chance to even _speak_ of them was so unlike her Uncle that she was, for once, truly mad at him.

She dropped to her butt in the grass and buried her face in her hands. But how could she be mad at him when his son, the oldest, sends him a letter telling him he wishes to come home? Even she could see the hidden meaning behind each and every sugary word Frantsen had written.

Frantsen wanted to come home and claim what he thought was rightfully his.

His father's power.

Her Uncle's throne.

And she would not deny that her Uncle aged every day and that his health deteriorated with it. But that didn't mean he couldn't keep his country safe and healthy. Her Uncle was a powerful man, who did everything in that power to make sure that his people were well taken care of, protected and pleased.

And she had no doubt that Frantsen could do none of those things.

She growled in frustration and began tearing at the grass around her.

"I don't think Master Briar would be pleased to see you doing that." She gasped and turned to the voice that had reprimanded her, if only slightly. When her eyes met hazel, she felt her face grow hot and she thrust her chin forward in defiance.

"Well, _Briar_, isn't here to say anything about it," although she did feel rather bad about what she was doing.

"Sandry," he said warningly, though there was a hint of playfulness behind it. She felt a flutter of satisfaction worm its way through her chest when he called her Sandry. It had taken so long for him to drop the _Lady_. He still only did it when they were alone.

"Wyan," she said back. She could almost feel the smile touching her face but then she saw her Uncle in her mind and it was gone. Wyan kneeled before her, his brow furrowed in concern.

"What is it, my Lady?" She didn't even bother to correct him. She felt the tears burn once again as his gaze pierced her and she turned away shamed.

"Sandry. What's wrong?" Wyan reached out and took her hand, his callouses rough against her own but the warmth of his hand, the weight of it, comforting. Sandry sighed in defeat.

"Uncle is…he won't even hear what I have to say!" She felt the tears fall down her face and she sniffled. Wyan's warm gaze held hers.

"The Duke received a letter," he said softly.

"Yes," Sandry said heatedly. "From Frantsen, that no good, deceiving, little-" Wyan chuckled and gripped her hand tight.

"His _son_, you mean." Sandry rolled her eyes at him.

"Yes, his son. The oldest, the one who inherits _everything_." Sandry threw her hands up in rage and flopped on her back. The sky was particularly clear today. This would be wonderful riding weather. She felt Wyan lie down next to her, his arm and leg warm against her own.

"Is that what's bothering you?" He asked softly. She didn't answer him right away. Did it bother her that Frantsen would get everything that she worked for when he came home? When her Uncle was gone, would it bother her that it would be Frantsen that she was answering to?

She turned to lie on her side, to face him and met his gaze. Sandry searched his eyes, for something, anything. The wonderful thing she found about Wyan, was that he was easy to read, physically. She could tell when his body was tired or when he was happy. But the moment she looked into his eyes, she was lost. She couldn't tell anything about Wyan from his eyes.

Of course, it could just be because she felt herself falling headfirst into the darkest depths of something that she couldn't quite yet comprehend.

"You're doing it again," he whispered as he brushed a piece of her hair from her face and behind her ear.

He meant that she was being too quiet again. From the moment they had met, he always had something to say about how much she talked. But she couldn't help it if she got lost in his eyes.

Her gaze flickered lower.

Or his lips.

Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel those lips against hers.

She blinked.

"Maybe," she said softly. His brow furrowed and she smiled.

"Maybe what?" She reached forward and smoothed it out.

"Maybe I am bothered by Frantsen coming back and taking what I think could be mine." Her voice was so hushed that Wyan had to lean in close to hear it, his nose practically touching hers.

The silence that followed stole Sandry's breath. She could see nothing beyond the honey hazel of his eyes and she was drowning in them. But the moment she felt Wyan's hand rest gently on her hip she knew she was in trouble.

"Ahem." They froze; their eyes wide in dread, locked too close to each other to move. His breath rushed across her cheeks, haggardly.

_You're just lucky it was me who found you and not someone else._

Sandry released the breath she was holding and the tension slid from her body. She rested her head against Wyan's chest. "It's only Daja," she whispered into him. She still felt the heat rise to her cheeks though, as if they had been caught doing something more, something scandalous.

He pushed away from her anxiously and she felt her body grow cold suddenly.

"I was only comforting Lady Sandry after her meeting with Duke Vedris," Wyan said tight-lipped, his body coiled as if to spring. Sandry saw that his face too was crimson. His words, though, left an empty feeling in her chest.

"Forgive me," he said hurriedly, eyes flicking between the both of them. His mouth gaped like a fish, as if he was going to say more, and then he dashed off.

Sandry watched his retreating back and felt the weight of disappointment hit her hard.

"Don't take it too hard Sandry," Daja said, reading her sister. Sandry turned to Daja, her disappointment clear in her eyes. Daja must have felt it clear across the bond because she approached Sandry in long, confident strides and sat next to her. She took Sandry's hand in her own and squeezed it tight.

"You mustn't blame him Sandry," Daja said patiently. "I can see that his feelings run deep for you." Sandry was fed up with everything and everyone.

"But why did he run? It was only you! It wasn't like it was my Uncle!" Daja laughed and caressed the back of Sandry's hand softly.

"_Saati_, you are the great-niece of the Duke of Emelan! Whom he loves with all of his heart!" Sandry sniffled and ducked her head. "Wyan knows exactly how he should act around you and _that_ isn't it."

Sandry jerked her head up at Daja, eyes wide, mouth agape. "But Daja! I've kissed men before!" Daja laughed again.

"Yes, my sister. But have any of them been men of Emelan or, better yet, guardsmen of the Duke?" Sandry's brow furrowed in thought. Daja was beginning to make some sense.

"And besides all that," Daja said warmly. "That didn't look like just kissing to me," her voice lowered an octave and hinted at something suggestive. Sandry's hands flew to her mouth and she gasped.

"Daja!"

Daja laughed, heartedly and drew Sandry into her embrace. "_Saati_, I never said I had anything against it." Sandry flushed again and pushed Daja away, playfully. This time, she too started laughing.

"We weren't even kissing, Shurri defend me. He really had nothing to fuss about." But she saw the look in Daja's eyes and laughed harder still, playfully smacking Daja's shoulder.

Once Daja had calmed down she sat up again. "I saw it in his eyes Sandry." Sandry turned to Daja, questioningly.

"What do you mean, _saati_?" Daja smiled knowingly.

"There's something in his eyes when he looks at you. A longing…" Daja didn't finish but Sandry was beginning to understand what Daja meant. She smiled, the hope gleaming in her eyes.

"You truly think so?" Daja smiled at the hope in her sister's eyes. "I truly do." She rose to her feet and reached down to offer Sandry her hand.

"Now let's see what we can't do about the Duke and his son."

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness.<strong>

**A/N**: I like writing Sandry with a man. I like her so much better that way! Especially when she's with one who isn't trying to dupe her. Anyway, so there's a little more on the whole Frantsen bit. Hope to see you next time!


	11. Chapter 10

**EM**: A Circle story from my heart. Thanks again everyone, for reviewing, and favoriting. You guys continue to amaze me. Seriously, I wouldn't be anywhere without your support.

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

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><p><span>Chapter 10<span>

_**The 7th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>Winding Circle Temple<br>Discipline Cottage**_

"Do you really have to go Briar?" He smiled down at Glaki, her brown locks pulled back in a braid. It was a messy one because Glaki had asked him to do it. He thanked Mila that Sandry, for some strange reason, had shown him how.

"Unfortunately, I do." Glaki sighed, dramatically.

"Oh well. Rosie will miss you, I suppose." He laughed and pulled her up into a bear hug, squeezing and tickling. She burst into a fit of giggles and squirmed in his arms.

"And you're not going to miss me, Miss Glakisa?" Briar fell to the ground as Little Bear tackled him and he started laughing as well.

"What is all the noise about?" Briar's laughter slowly died as he found his teachers gaze settled firmly on him. He set Glaki on the ground and pushed Bear off of him.

"Sorry Lark." She looked at him with those stern eyes for only a moment longer before she was smiling as well. "I will miss you Briar." He smiled as the shadow of the past two days had finally seemed to dissipate as the women of Discipline Cottage had amended his weary heart.

_Women do so many wonderful things._

"And I you, Lark." She gazed at him a moment longer, her eyes filled with a love he recognized to be a mother's, and she returned to the kitchen again. "I'm fixing you some things for the road. Be sure to save some for Tris, alright?"

Tris. He had taken these past two days to settle his thoughts about her. He still couldn't shake the image of her falling over the edge but he was beginning to see it from a distance.

He realized he was going to have too if he was going to go back home to Sandry's house on the cliff. Back to Tris.

Thinking about Tris made him miss her, more than he wanted to admit.

"What are you thinking about?" He blinked and looked down into Glaki's eyes. Spending these two days with her, he thought that perhaps, if Tris had been as loved as Glaki was her whole life, than Tris may have been just like Glaki was now.

Glaki was just as intuitive as Tris was, and she had the same inquisitive attitude that Tris did, if not more sweet about it. Tris was just a little _pricklier_.

But then she wouldn't be his Tris.

He brushed a stray lock of hair behind Glaki's ear. "Thunderclouds," he said quietly. Her small brows knit together furiously. She fiddled with a loose string on his pant leg.

"But it's not going to storm today, is it?" He heard Lark laugh from the kitchen and frowned. Lark came out with a small knapsack filled with what Briar could only guess were homemade foods and herbs that he and the girls would enjoy.

"Glaki, go tell Rosie that Briar's leaving, won't you?" Glaki's head tilted to the side in confusion but she stood anyway, and ran from the room to the gardens. Lark watched him intently and passed him the bag. She sat down in front of him and crossed her legs.

"Briar," she said, pausing. Lark took one of his hands and ran a thumb over the web between his thumb and forefinger. She didn't look into his eyes, but kept looking at the tattoos that moved over his hands and the X that branded him for life. "Take care of her." He could hear the tears thick in her voice but her eyes only shone with unshed ones.

She picked her head up, her eyes searching his. If there was one thing he hated to see, it was Lark worried.

"Of course Lark." She nodded, as if she knew that he would. She rose to her feet and pulled Briar with her. She placed a hand against his cheek. It was only a moment, so brief, but he could have sworn that he had seen fear in her eyes. But just as quick, it was gone. She reached over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Tell the girls that we miss them."

"You can tell them to come back and take away this Bear." Rosethorn's eyes met his over Lark's shoulder and he knew she had heard some of the conversation that had taken place, had probably seen what Lark had done.

Glaki followed Rosethorn close behind, her eyes wide in terror. "Absolutely not! Little Bear can't leave. If he goes, than I go!" Rosethorn snorted then bent down to Glaki's eye level.

"Exactly," she said wickedly. Glaki's eyes widened to saucer's and Briar thought she was about to tackle Rosethorn. But then he saw his teacher smiling, and Glaki saw it too and she started laughing and pulling on the front of Rosethorn's habit.

"Don't scare me like that, ever!" She said hotly and Rosethorn tousled her hair.

"Scare you? Never." Rosethorn turned to him next, the smile fading from her lips. Her face turned stern.

"The next time you come back here, boy, it had better be with three other girls' yattering off your ears." He smiled hesitantly, realized she hadn't finished yet. "Or you better not come back at all." The finality of her tone scared him. She approached him, all five foot three of her staring up at him intimidatingly.

"Because if you come back again, while one of those girls is in trouble, Green Man help you I'll string you up by your toes and leave you to the roses." The room had gone silent and he could only see the brown of her eyes, swallowing him up like a pit of quicksand.

"Ohhh, Briar's in trouble!" Glaki cooed, breaking the silence and the tension that had built within the room between them.

"I'll miss you too, Rosethorn," he said gently, taking her into the embrace of his arms. She was a little stiff at first but then she responded quickly and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"You know I don't lie boy," she said into his tunic. He knew and he nodded.

"I know." He cleared his throat gruffly and pulled away. "Tell Evvy and Luvo I said goodbye?" She nodded.

He bent down to Glaki. "Tell Tris that I miss her, okay? Tell her that I want to see her." He felt something inside constrict painfully. He pulled her forward into another hug.

"I promise, as long as you promise to take care of my mothers." He heard Rosethorn grumble something incoherent and Lark shush her sweetly. A smile graced his lips. Glaki pushed away from him, her face confused not for the first time that day.

"They're both your mother?" He tweaked her nose.

"Absolutely. Having two ma's is better than one. Don't you know?" Glaki thought about this and then smiled brightly.

"I have lots of mothers, don't I." He stood up and caressed her head.

"You can never have enough Glaki." He turned to his teachers, his mother's he said to himself, and saw that Lark had tears in her eyes and Rosethorn had her arms crossed over her chest. Lark rested her head on Rosethorn's shoulder.

"Go home Briar. We'll see you when it's time." Lark tucked her hand through Rosethorn's arm.

"Go boy. Before I push you." But there was a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. He threw the bag of food over his shoulder and walked out the door.

_**½ mile West of Summersea  
>The house along the cliff<strong>_

He wasn't sure how to go inside. Something was different, that was certain. For one, there was a line of laundry drying outside. And second, he could feel the earth beneath him moving.

Was it moving because of Tris?

He sighed. There were too many possibilities. He would just have to go see for himself. He took a deep breath, pulled the memory of a few days ago deep inside where he could hide it and strode toward the front door.

Where it flew wide open and a tumble of copper braids and green skirts came rushing out. "Chime!" Tris screeched. The wind roared past him and he was frozen to the spot.

"Ah! Chime!" Briar came back to himself immediately at Tris' throaty yell of discomfort and grabbed one of her flailing arms, Chime screeching in the air above him. He didn't have time to see what she was so excited about.

He felt Tris' arm constrict in his grip and her body go stiff as the wind whirled fiercely around him, pulling him off the ground faster and faster into a whirlwind.

"Tris, it's me!" He yelled, though his words were carried off. Briar ground his teeth in frustration and slammed through their bond. _Coppercurls! _

Tris flinched visibly and the winds ceased immediately. Briar dropped to his feet and teetered. She turned around, momentarily stunned and then reached out to steady him by the arm.

"Briar?" He rubbed his head, collected his thoughts and then focused on her face. She was still pale, still too thin for her frame and she still had dark circles under eyes. But there was something different that he could feel through the bond.

"Well who else would it be ya daftie?" She looked confused for a moment and then scowled.

"You could have been anyone! Do you know what kind of trouble makes its way out into the middle of nowhere?" She tapped her foot impatiently, giving him only seconds. "Its pirate season you know. How was I to know you weren't a dangerous cutthroat out to take my valuables?" He watched her face, and when he realized that she was serious, burst into a fit of laughter. If there was anyone to be afraid of, it wasn't the pirates.

She bit her lip, hesitation clear on her face. "Briar, I'm serious-" she said, reaching out to either grab him or what, he would never know because at that moment Chime decided to drop a dead field mouse into her palm.

She looked shocked for a moment, unable to register exactly what she was looking at, when suddenly she was screaming. At the top of her lungs.

"CHIME!" Tris stood locked in place, her face crimson with fury, her hand trembling. Her eyes were filled with panic.

"Briar! Get it off me!" He couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of him.

"You can strike down a fleet of pirate ships, defeat the murderer of a ridiculous country, beat the battle-mage of an empress and play in the fields of lightning and yet," she stood glaring at Briar, her eyes filled with both pleading and anger while he spoke. Her hand began to tremble violently. "And yet you can't bring yourself to toss away a little dead field mouse off your own hand?"

"Briar," she whined. He shook his head, in wonderment. _Here_ was the Tris he had missed for so long.

"You're truly a skirt, Coppercurls," he said as he picked up the mouse from her palm and tossed it into the air where a lone hawk swooped from the sky and caught it up. When he turned back, Tris was gone.

"Tris?"

He heard a clatter come from the inside of the house. He walked through the open door and paused. He could smell the garden in here. All the windows were thrown wide open. The rugs had been put in place, furniture set up.

"Tris?" He called again. When he went further into the house, towards the kitchen, he heard a frantic scrubbing noise. When he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he saw Tris at the sink, bar of soap in hand, rubbing furiously.

"That blasted creature!" She snapped. "I should have melted her down when I had the chance!" Briar didn't respond to her anger. Clearly, this was more than just a dead mouse.

He reached out across his bonds for Sandry and Daja and found that neither of them was here. He blanched. Had they left her, alone in this big house, with nothing but her broken self for comfort?

Anger simmered low in his belly as he thought of his other mates and their abandonment as he watched Tris struggle to clean her hand, the skin turning red and puffy. He walked towards her, slowly and reached out to take the bar away from her. She didn't resist when he did. Nor did she look at him.

"Tris-"

"I'm sorry," she blurted out. Her cheeks were tipped with pink. Sorry for what, he wondered. For jumping off of the cliff? For closing her mind off to them and pushing them away for weeks? For going away to Lightsbridge?

He felt along their shared bond tentatively. She was hovering just at the edge of it, not yet ready to open it but waiting for the moment when she would be ready to. He pushed at hesitantly, rooted himself deep into the wall of her side so that he would always be near. She couldn't feel it but he would know. He watched as tears rose to her eyes.

And knew he was never going to get used to that. He couldn't remember the last time Tris had cried in front of him. Ever. Her tears were of frustration and anger. She would never have shown emotion like this before. Apologizing so quickly.

He swallowed against his own emotions and reached out to her, pushing back the braid at her ear. The tears flowed over, down her cheeks. She gripped her waist tight, pulling into herself, away from Briar.

But he couldn't watch her like that. _"Take care of her."_

He took her arm, gently and pulled her against him, into his embrace.

This time, he wouldn't run away.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and dropped his head against hers, taking a deep breath. She stiffened. And when he began to feel her shake, it was only a matter of time. Tris tried to make herself into iron, but she was more fragile than the glass that she crafted in the fire.

He felt the wetness on his shirt and her hands buried in the folds. He heard her mumble something into his chest.

"What?" Tris turned her face to the side so he could hear.

"I'm not supposed to be broken." Her breath hitched on the last word and this time she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer to him, burying her face once again into his tunic, a shudder rippling through her. He could feel her heart thudding frantically against his chest, her breath coming in short bursts. He felt something pull tight in his chest.

Things never should have gotten this bad. And he should never have let her go to Lightsbridge. He was supposed to take care of his family, especially this one. Tris had always been the one to take care of his ouches, his hurts, and maybe, even his bruised heart. But her heart had always been the easiest to break and he knew that better than anyone. This time, he assured himself, he would make sure they both stayed together. This time, he would help her mend what was broken, just like she was always trying to mend him.

"Then we'll just have to fix each other," he whispered softly against the frizz of her copper braids, as lightning jumped to his nose and gently trailed across his cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness.<strong>

**A/N**: This chapter was rather touching for me. And a big step forward as well. I know that for some of you, I may be moving at an extremely slow pace. Snail worthy in fact. But I've gone too fast before and this one I want to do right. I want to do it justice. So I hope you'll bear with me and take these moments, like this chapter, in gulps; like you're coming up for air.


	12. Chapter 11

**EM**: A Circle story from my heart. Thanks for the continued reviewing everyone. I love you all so much. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 11<span>

_**The 11th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>The Duke's Citadel<br>The Kitchen**_

"It's a letter," Sandry said softly.

Daja was seated at a small table with Sandry, eating the cured meat the cook had set out for her, and picking at the bread and honey. Sandry's tea sat untouched in front of her, a biscuit next to it.

"What do you-." Sandry slammed the paper on the table before her, rattling the china and startling the cooks behind them.

Daja gave them a reassuring smile, and then turned to back to Sandry. "I can't believe he sent me a _letter_!" Her infuriated shout sent a few of the maids scuttling out of the kitchen.

_You're scaring off the ladies, Sandry. _

"Briar!" Sandry fanned the paper in Daja's direction, ignoring what she had said between their shared bond. "He sent us a damned letter!" Sandry threw her hands in the air and the letter with it, the sheet fluttering to the ground. Daja snatched it up quickly. Her eyes found Sandry's, her brows arched high in question.

"Are you telling me that getting a letter from our brother doesn't bother you?" Daja wasn't sure what she should be more surprised at; Sandry swearing or Sandry this upset at Briar. Daja could tell that either way she answered wouldn't matter. Sandry was in one of her moods now.

"It's a lett-."

"We don't need letters, Daja! He could do it the old-fashioned way!" Sandry looked at her pointedly, fingers wiggling around her head. Daja wanted to laugh because Sandry looked ridiculous but she sighed resignedly, and looked over the letter.

It was concise, not really Briar's way about things even if it was his handwriting. Daja suspected Tris may have had a thing or two in what was said in the letter. Which was why she suspected they were getting the letter in the _first_ place.

"You know why we're getting this, saati." Daja placed the letter on the table and chewed a piece of bread thoughtfully. He was mad, simple as that.

"No, I don't Daja. What could it possibly be this time? Because you know I don't have time for his-his humbuggery!"

Daja chuckled and grabbed Sandry's hand in hers, an image of Rosethorn invading her thoughts.

"He's mad at us, Sandry." Her eyes narrowed, lips parting slightly. Daja spoke quickly.

"Because we left Tris, alone, at the house." Sandry gaped and then her face flushed. She pulled her hand roughly from Daja's, and then pushed away from the table harshly, the chair crashing to the ground.

"She didn't want us there!" Daja ran a hand over her face, breathing deeply. Ever since the letter from Frantsen had arrived Sandry had been on edge, biting off the head of anyone who came near. She had thought Sandry was beyond it, but when the Duke had shut her from his study during one of his council meetings, Sandry had taken that _hard_. And now everything made her testy.

"Shurri defend me! He can't fault us for something that she wanted. And he certainly doesn't need to send me a letter to _talk_ to me." She snatched the piece of paper out of Daja's hand and began to tear it to pieces, the little sections falling gracefully to the floor at Daja's feet.

Wyan walked through the door then, eyes finding Sandry's hands. She whirled on him, eyes flaring. "What do _you_ want?" She demanded hotly. He took a wary step back, eyes finding Daja's. Sandry noted this and anger shook her shoulders.

"Either you spit it out Wyan or I cocoon you with your trousers!" Wyan's face went placid and he squared his shoulders.

"The Duke wishes to see Daja in his study."

_Sandry-. _

"Fine," she responded curtly, turning away from both of them.

_Saati, please. _

"Go, Daja. Don't keep _the Duke_ waiting." Her voice sounded cold and small, and Daja was sure that the moment they left she would cry.

"I'll be right back," _and I'll tell you what he wants when I do. _

Sandry didn't respond and Daja left, her heart going out to her sister. When the door fell closed behind them, Wyan turned to her.

"What's going on with Lady Sandry?" The concern in his voice brought a smile to Daja's face. She looked at him; found his face pinched with worry.

"She's been taking the Duke's actions to heart lately." Wyan stopped, his eyes narrowing at Daja.

"He's been keeping her at arm's length, Wyan. Pushing her away from everything that's been going on. And you've been keeping your distance as well, which she's very frustrated with because she likes you, very much." Daja watched as his cheeks turned a deep shade of red. "And now the Duke calls _me_ to his study, to discuss Oti knows what, when he hasn't spoken to Sandry about much of anything since the letter from Frantsen came." Her eyes softened. "How do you think she's taking all this?"

Wyan's face took on a faraway look, his hands fisting at his sides.

Yanna bless them, she thought. He truly does like her, he's just too afraid to admit it.

She laughed. Or face the Duke.

"Let's go," she said, taking off for the study again. "The Duke has something important to discuss, yes?"

_**The Council Room**_

"You can't possibly be thinking about letting Frantsen move back home." The Duke rubbed his face warily, his shoulders sagging. Daja bit her cheek, knowing she should have held her tongue but also knowing full well that she couldn't. Frantsen, moving back to the castle, for good, would ruin Sandry. Infinitely.

"Sandry will never be the same if you do this to her, you know that." The Duke turned on her then, his eyes blazing furiously.

"And what would you have me do, Daja?" He retorted forcefully. "My son, _my son _Daja, returns home to _shove_ me into the ground, and bury me, so that he may take over my country as his own," he yelled, arms waving frantically now, the notion reminiscent of Sandry. "How am I to tell my own son that he cannot come home?" The Duke looked lost then. And Daja knew that as much as he wanted to tell Sandry, he hadn't yet figured out what he was going to do about Frantsen. "I wouldn't doubt if he brought a shovel for the hole!"

Daja stood stunned. She couldn't believe that the Duke was telling her these things when it should be Sandry. The door to her right opened, and Yazmín entered.

"Love, _everyone _can hear you when you shout like that. I'm sure Daja would appreciate a civilized conversation?" She turned to Daja, questioning, yet her face held a look that asked her to avoid the topic that they were discussing.

His son should just stay wherever he was, Daja thought.

The Duke blew out a heavy breath, and sagged in his seat. He beckoned to Yazmín, and she went to him.

"I don't know what to do, dear. Even if I make Sandry my heir, it won't just be Frantsen coming after her," he conceded dejectedly. And Daja blanched. Sandry, the Duke's heir? Was that what he was truly considering?

"Are you…serious? You would make Sandry your successor?" The Duke didn't respond right away. Yazmín reached forward and kissed him tenderly on the forehead, and then on the lips. Daja turned her head slightly, to give them their moment.

"I'll be at the studio if you need me," she whispered. He squeezed her hand as she walked away. Yazmín gave Daja a look as she walked out the door and Daja knew that if the Duke had his way, Sandry would have been his successor a long time ago.

"Shouldn't you be telling Sandry all of this? She knows far more about these things than I do, especially when it comes to politics." The Duke rubbed his face wearily and sighed.

"Daja, my dear, Sandry has come to mean more to me than…" his hesitation made it clear that he didn't want to finish his sentence.

"I know that Sandry would fight for me, would fight for all of Emelan. And I know that she would be the best Duchess that Emelan could ask for." Daja could feel the weight of his deliberation.

"This is why you won't see her, isn't it?" He turned to the window and slumped further down.

"You feel that that the moment you and her talk you'll make your decision then. That you'll make Sandry your successor." He blew out a breath.

"I'm tired, Daja. I'm tired of my sons fighting over who will get to sit in my seat when I am gone. I am tired of feeling guilty for wanting it to be Sandry over the children of my own blood." He closed his eyes and leaned forward, elbows resting against his knees. He rubbed his temples methodically.

"Sir, you shouldn't be ashamed of your feelings. Sandry thinks of you as a father." Daja rounded the desk and placed a hand on his shoulder. "For you to think of her as your child doesn't make you a bad father."

The Duke patted her hand comfortingly, but his face was still etched with worry.

"Things have been out of sorts recently. The pirate attacks have been unusually bold this summer, I've had to raise the tax to cover for the damage throughout the country, and now Frantsen sends this letter?" Daja would not wish this upon the Duke, or Sandry for that matter.

The door burst open then, a weary soldier panting, sweat dripping from his face.

"Sir," he breathed, one hand clutching the sword at his waist, the other gripping the doorframe for support.

The Duke stood, his shoulders set, his face now unreadable.

"Sit son. Catch your breath first." The soldier was shaking his head, but did as he was told. Wyan entered the room behind him. The Duke poured him a glass of water, passing it over. He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Tell me what has sent you into my rooms so urgently."

The soldier's face pinched in shame, looked about at the room he was in and took a large swallow of water. Daja saw the Duke's lips tilt up in a smile.

"Don't worry boy. You came here for a reason. Tell me what it is."

He nodded and breathed deep.

"Pirates, my lord." The Duke's smile vanished.

"From the northwest, sir." Daja lost her train of thought.

The Northwest. Winding Circle was to the East. The Circle House was…

"How close?" Daja burst out, before the soldier could say anything further.

"Six miles out to sea." The boy took a breath, stared at Daja intently. It wasn't much time to go by, but they would be able to do something about it.

"Two and half miles out by land." The breath stopped in her. She could only see Briar and Tris in her mind, alone at the house.

Where she had abandoned them.

She turned on her heel, and stormed from the room without even a parting goodbye to the Duke. Her parents were sure to be rolling in the sea at her disgrace.

"Daja," the Duke called.

"I left them _alone_, sir." She turned to face him at the door. "Weather mage, plant mage, whether they hold medallions or not, they are my _family_. I have to go."

She saw the Duke nod slightly and ran from the room.

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><p><strong>Reviews are a sign of your kindness. <strong>

**A/N: **It took me a while to get this one out. I kind of went AWOL from betaing, reading, and writing for some time. But I'm back again! With a little action to stir things up.

See you next time.


	13. Chapter 12

**EM**: A Circle story from my heart. Sorry I took so long. I'm sort of on a Walking Dead kick, lost sight of this one. Thanks for being here loves! I hope you all have, and have had, wonderful holidays!

**Disclaimer**: All that is Circle belongs to Tamora Pierce.

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><p><span>Chapter 12<span>

_**The 11th day of Mead, 1044 K.F.  
>The Circle House<br>Tris' Room**_

Briar had been up here.

She could feel him in the room. And he had left his shakkan on the balcony, basking in the sunlight.

She went to it, caressed its trunk, cradled the pot in her palms, and slid to the ground. She pulled it into her lap.

The past few days had been different. Quiet.

She and Briar hadn't talked much since he had come back and…well. Since he had come back home. Since then she had taken to arranging Sandry and Daja's rooms to the way she thought they might like it. And he had taken to his garden.

Her foster-sisters hadn't brought much with them, so there wasn't much to do. But she had done her best with what she had. Put away what clothes each of them had brought. Made the beds. She had set up Sandry's loom in the corner by the window, where she would be able to sit and feel the breeze on her skin. In Daja's room she'd done the same, and thought about putting up her altar to her gods, but had decided against it. That was something Daja did. And then she had decided to add her own small touches. Books she had bought for them, left on the bedside tables. A small glass thimble that she had blown and molded for Sandry on top of her book, glistening in the sunlight. A hammer, in the likeness of Hakkoi, left on Daja's book.

She knew it had been a rough few weeks. Now would be a good time to give them the gifts she had spent so much time delicately making while she had been away at school.

_School._

She gripped the shakkan tight, a rush of emotions sweeping over her.

_Tris?_

His green voice, worried, echoed over the bond. Over the bond that she had yet to open to him, but that he still seemed to be able to feel. She sighed, looking up at the clouds.

"I'm alright," she sent to him, on a breeze.

She felt his bond shift, as if there was an easing of a grip. She could see him, knees to the ground, digging through the dirt. He wasn't wearing shoes or a shirt, and the sweat shined on him. She watched as he rubbed at his cheek, leaving behind a smudge of dirt. He was the picture of Rosethorn. It felt like home, seeing him like that.

She closed her eyes, closing off the image of Briar, and pulled the shakkan closer.

She would never tell him that she had started scrying on the wind again.

She would never tell him that she had started scrying _him_, and only him.

It had been hard at first, to allow the pictures to come sweeping across her vision. For the most part, she simply couldn't. It brought up too many painful memories. But then she saw Briar, in the garden, two days ago, and she watched him. Watched his hands pull at the weeds and the dead plants, watched his back arch in the sunlight, his bare feet pad in the dirt, his toes wriggling further in the ground. He would smile, turn his face to the sky and breathe deep. He was adjusting. She hated it, at the same time that she was happy for him. He was slowly adjusting to life, here, with them again. Nightmares or not. But whether she was doing the same or not, she couldn't stop watching him.

She would never admit it to _anyone_, not even her sisters, but she found comfort in watching him.

She felt the shakkan's inner magic quiver, and a new bud burst forth. She smiled a little.

"Tris!" She jerked, surprised that Briar was still tuned into her, and then a laugh escaped her.

She heard his sigh on the wind, and then his feet were coming in the house.

"Sandry will be upset if you track dirt all over her house," she sent to him. She heard him huff in response, and continue walking up the stairs.

She turned just as he stepped into her doorway.

"And is she here to do anything about it?" She had seen Briar shirtless many times on the winds for the past two days now, but as he stood before her, shirtless, something was different. She studied him, studied his broad chest, marked by scars.

Marked by a war that tortured him, even to this day.

She had rarely seen him without clothes before. In fact, she couldn't ever recount a single time when he had ever been without a shirt around any of them. Except, for maybe when he was a boy. He wiped his hands on the towel he held, which wasn't a towel she saw. He pulled it over his head, revealing a white tunic, now stained.

She sighed. She was going to have to scrub that clean now.

He walked over to her and sat across from her.

Reaching forward, he rubbed the new bud between his dirty fingers and smiled a little, sighing.

"You can't keep that friend." She watched his face, his gray-green eyes widening slightly.

"He says you encouraged him." She felt her own eyes widen in surprise. "What?" She looked down at the shakkan, and put her thoughts together. When she started thinking about Briar, the shakkan responded. That was the only explanation.

She watched as another bud started to grow, as if on cue with her thoughts. A small gasp escaped her.

"Hey now!" He reached forward and pulled the shakkan from her hands, gently. "Cut that out. You know you can't do that." He pinched the buds, stopping their growth.

"Briar," she said, touching one of his hands, ghosting across his bond softly. Not yet connecting, but just touching. His movements stopped, and his head came up, his full attention on her. She felt her chest constrict. His eyes, so focused on her, made her knees quiver.

"Can we just keep one?" If she didn't know any better, she could swear that his lips turned up, just at the corner.

And he laughed. "Just one," he conceded.

She smiled, squeezing Briar's arm gently.

_There were horses in mid gallop, and the men seated on them carried their weapons in their hands, as if ready to strike. Many of them were dressed in colorful attire, clothes meant for the sea. Some had jewels in their faces, their ears. But it was the look they all carried. They were men of ruin. Scars, and pain, hatred, and anger littered the many faces approaching the single figure standing in the middle of the road, between _

"Tris!" She jerked from the picture before her, losing it.

Suddenly she was snatching up bits and pieces of pictures here and there, on the wind, searching, looking for anything that was like what she had just seen. It didn't matter that she had been avoiding the winds like the blue pox for the past several weeks. She _needed_ to find that wind again. Briar seemed to sense her sudden urgency and squeezed her arm, gently.

"Coppercurls, hey." She turned to him, and grabbed his hands. She looked down at the flowers, moving over his hands. The colors today were crimson, violet and white. She ran her fingers over them, the feel of the X's beneath both a mark against him, and a part of who he was. She didn't hold it against him.

"Pirates," she whispered, looking up into his eyes, seeking solace from the warmth that suddenly burst forth.

"You're scrying again," he whispered back, squeezing her hands. She could see his lips beginning to tilt up. The joy that he had, because she was scrying again, made her want to cry. She had only been scrying him, and it had only been for such a short time. He shouldn't have been happy about that.

"No!" She bit back, pulling her hands away from his. "No I'm not. But…" She bit her lip, as Chime came soaring from above to land in her lap. Her screech pierced the air around them, her talons biting the skin beneath her dress.

But nothing. She had been scrying.

"I saw pirates, on the wind," she admitted softly. She picked at the skin on her thumbs and smoothed out her dress absently.

"Tris." She looked into his face once more. He looked so sure that there was nothing to worry about.

"It's just pirates," he said softly, leaning forward. She chewed on her bottom lip, trying but failing to avoid his gaze.

"But it's not," she whispered back. Her hand fell to his knee, and her vision from the wind popped to the forefront of her mind. She could feel his bond, strong and resilient against hers. All she had to do was reach forward and he would be there, waiting for her. All she had to do was break that little wall she had made around herself, and she could _show_ him exactly what she had seen.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between them.

And then the fear and pain rose up, drowning out everything. She turned away from his gaze, and pulled her hand from his knee.

The moment gone.

"I saw someone, facing the pirate attack." She could see Briar's face out of her peripheral vision, dejected and upset. He could tell that she had been close to connecting with him again but that something had stopped her.

"Who was it?" Chime looked at her earnestly, head cocking to the side.

"I didn't get a good view of their face," she started, fear seizing her up. "And there were so many pirates, galloping on horseback towards him."

"So it's a man." She found his steady gray-green eyes, and took a deep breath. She would face this, together, with him.

"Yes." She thanked Mila that he had more patience then she did because even she was beginning to hate her own evasion on the matter.

"He was wearing a green tunic," she began, and watched his face go still. "Tall, short cropped hair, bronze skin." Now Briar wasn't saying anything.

"He was barefoot." Briar's head dropped.

And then he stood and walked from the room, leaving her confused and unsure of what to do.

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><p><strong>Reviews mean <strong>_**a lot**_**.**

**A/N**: God, writing Briar and Tris is like emptying my soul. It's so _easy_. I also may have taken some liberties with Briar's shakkan and it sprouting new buds so quickly on par with Tris' thoughts. It just made for wonderful story! Don't take it out too hard on me. Pirates! Pirates! I know. I was just thinking that there hasn't been much in the way of action or magic, for 12 chapters! And pirates were going to come in soon, so I figured soon would be now. It is summer you know.

See you again soon! Happy Holidays!


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